


Into the Void

by Teal_Aurora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Asmodeus acts like Stiles' mother, Asmodeus is a classy badass, Derek has to help him realize not everything that happened was stiles' fault, Encouraging Coach Finstock- he acts like an uncle to Stiles, F/M, Fluff everywhere, Good parent Sheriff Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, I'm not kidding- you might need tissues, Lucifer acts like his dad, Lydia is not good with demon presences, M/M, Melissa still loves Stiles, Nogitsune acts like a nii-san, Nogitsune has no chill when people threaten Stiles, Nogitsune's name is Kurotsuki, Pain, Protective Nogitsune, Sad moments, Scott feels bad for being a horrible friend, Sheriff Stilinski loves Stiles- but has a difficult time coming to terms, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Some characters are OOC, Stiles deserves good friends, Stiles has two of the seven demon lords posessing him, Stiles is a cinnamon roll, Supportive spirits, The pack pushes Stiles away after the nogitsune incident, Violence, Will add more tags as we go, a lot of twists and turns, attempted rape/noncon, demons demons everywhere and all the blood they can drink!, everything gets worse before it gets better, everything it does is for Stiles, guardian!Nogitsune, i tried., male oc obsessed with Stiles, mental and emotional anguish, protective!demons, stiles is still a sarcastic little shit, the demons are sinnamon rolls, they regret it, this is why we can't have nice things scott, truth is but a lie within reality that twists and fools the psyche
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2018-07-16 07:26:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 30,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7258081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teal_Aurora/pseuds/Teal_Aurora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Once the Nogitsune takes root in someone's soul, it isn't unusual for it to leave enough of its energy to regenerate should something happen, feeding off of despair and chaos from that person's soul. It also isn't uncommon for the Nogitsune to develop characteristics of that person and become attached to their host."</p><p>The Nogitsune comes back when Stiles is at his weakest. The difference? Now he's out to protect Stiles from not only the two demon princes waiting in the depths of the boy's damaged soul, but from his own "pack" that practically abandoned him and a coven of vampires. Can the pack save Stiles? Does he even want to be saved anymore? Giving up control just seems so nice right now... and the Nogitsune has been so kind to him he doesn't want to leave the peaceful cradle of his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chaos Returns

 

* * *

Stiles was exhausted. Physically, mentally and emotionally tired of being looked at like he was some monster; some freaky creature that could snap and slaughter a newborn (ha... He'd never looked at anyone in the pack like that, even when they actually turned into monsters whereas Stiles was only possessed by one) and a frickin' mad-man that everyone seemed to walk on eggshells around. It made his heart and his head throb in pain. Actually... why was his head hurting this badly? Was it all the stress and the loneliness of the past few months?

"Oh god," Stiles grumbled and massaged his forehead. He was way too young for this kind of nonsense plaguing Beacon, he was the normal dorky kid in class before this shit! Even the Nogitsune wasn't _technically_ his fault! Stiles stopped, threading his hands through his hair and tugging to ground himself.

"Calm down, Stiles... just _calm down_." he sighed, his hands fisting in dark brown locks.

 _'Do you think you **can** calm down?'_ a voice asked with amusement-tinted curiosity, causing the teen to turn his head, feeling and ignoring the straining of his tendons in his neck.

"Who's there?!" he demanded, trying not to sound terrified. His dad was on a three-day trip out of town to some sheriffs' convention, on top of that he'd been avoiding his son like the plague, so it wasn't him. The pack wouldn't go anywhere near him, so they were out of the question. He hadn't felt like this since... since....

 _'Figured it out yet?'_ the familiar voice snickered, echoing in his head.

"That's impossible- you were _killed_! I saw it happen!"

 _'I tried to warn your idiot companions,'_ it felt like the Nogitsune was right behind him and leaned in close to his ear like an intimate secret, he could practically feel the ghosting breath in his ear as one simple statement made his blood freeze and clot in his veins; ' _I'm over a thousand years old; **you can't kill me.** '_

"But you were gone," Stiles whimpered in denial, not able to believe the fox was still "alive" and well.He went through all that trauma for _nothing._ Why was he even trying anymore?

 _'Oh, Stiles,'_ the sound of pure amusement made the human want to curl into a ball, the tone almost as if he were cooing to a child. _**'I never left.'**_

Stiles opened his mouth, a silent scream leaving him as he grasped his head so hard it wouldn't've surprised him if his head burst from the pressure; he was certain it wouldn't hurt any more than the feeling of his brain liquidating in his skull. It might not **actually** be liquefying itself, but it felt like it. It hurt even worse than when he was fighting the Nogitsune for his body, but what was worse was there was a part of himself telling him that everything would somehow be better if he just _let go_. At least he wouldn't have to deal with being looked at like he was a monster hiding in human skin.

'Just let go,' he thought the Nogitsune would call him by his lifelong nickname "Stiles" but was surprised to hear his own complicated birth name being uttered and stopped fighting from shock. That was all the Nogitsune needed to gain control and opened Stiles' eyes, revealing a significantly darker color than what the human naturally had.

"Świetomierz(1)... the name suits him." the spirit commented off-handedly, holding out a hand and twisting it in a few directions to get used to the sensation.

"Now then, let's see what I can do now..."

* * *

I made up Stiles' real name; Derived from the Slavic elements _svetu_ "blessed, holy" and _miru_ "peace, world".


	2. The Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wants to know what the Nogitsune's up to, so he asks him the next time he let's his host's body rest. The response is surprising, and they strike a bargain.  
> The Nogitsune doesn't take shit from anyone, least of all a pathetic human who doesn't know himself but thinks he knows everyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In flower language, the Hemlock means "You will kill me"

* * *

Maybe the fox spirit should be a bit more careful about how he acted. Apparently, Stiles was more sarcastic and hyper than bored and assertively vexed by other people's stupidity. He discovered this out when the teacher (Harris or something?) started harassing the humanized Nogitsune and only received an apathetic [expression ](https://66.media.tumblr.com/b3def77319404dc96a58cc0aeb7b3927/tumblr_o70pdfyFWw1ut8bqao1_500.jpg)in turn. Apparently, his human sassed authority but was never outright indifferent... now he understood why the class had seemed surprised he didn't say something witty in turn and instead uttered a sharp "Are you finished making a complete schlemiel of yourself? Because you're wasting my time and distracting your own class."

Good _god_ , no wonder there were more people open to his influence; schools nowadays were full of imposter teachers like this causing negativity in kids' fragile, impressionable minds. Maybe he should aim for teachers next? He could inflict a great amount of damage to many doing it. Assigning homework before the weekends... the devil himself would be proud.

The teacher sputtered but couldn't send the boy to the office; he hadn't exactly said anything that the principal would punish him for, he was being genuine and wondered if anyone tolerated the teacher- or why anyone would _want_ to. "Alright, Stiles; since you're so above us, please go up to the board and tell us what the molecules of an atom consist of-"

"Protons and neutrons." he didn't even bother getting up and stayed seated, his face showing boredom and his eyes unamused. A bored Nogitsune was not a well-behaved creature; they thrived on mischief, after all. To be bored is the same as to be dead, and he wasn't as old as he was because he was never entertained.

"What is the product of water and pentyl ethanoate under acidic conditions?" the class waited with bated breath and expected the college question to stump the teen but were surprised by how quickly and efficiently he answered, without a hint of uncertainty or smugness, he was bored already of Mr. Harris' childish competition. Hey, you didn't exist for so long and not know a thing or two from the grapevine.

"When mixed with water under acidic or basic conditions, esters undergo hydrolysis: the products are a carboxylic acid and an alcohol." the teacher scowled and asked two more supposedly complicated questions, each time turning redder with anger.

"In order to extract isobutyric acid from a solution of diethyl ether, one should wash the solution with...?"

"Isobutyric acid has a carboxylic acid group, which is polar and can readily hydrogen bond. It can be extracted from the organic solvent diethyl either by washing with a polar solution like water. Multiple small volume washes extract better than one large volume wash. Use of a second organic solvent, hexane, will not extract the isobutyric acid from the diethyl ether. Therefore, the answer is three 10 mL washes of water. The isobutyric acid will enter the aqueous layer and wash off of the organic layer of diethyl ether." by now Mr. Harris had moved so he was standing right next to the student's desk and was yelling in Stiles' ear with an unnecessarily loud voice. The fox could hear him just fine from across the room and didn't understand the mortal's need to get closer to be heard efficiently.

The invasion of space was pissing the fox off more than these immature games of twenty questions.

"Which alcohol will most easily react with HCl to form an alkyl halide? Primary alcohol, Secondary alcohol, Tertiary alcohol or do all alcohols react equally to form alkyl halides?" the creature posing as human leaned back in his chair and fixed the desperate teacher with the same look he'd held all throughout class.

"Tertiary alcohols have greater reactivity with hydrogen halides than secondary alcohols – which in turn have greater reactivity than primary alcohols – in reactions forming alkyl halides. For tertiary alcohols, the reaction proceeds by an SN1 mechanism which prefers a more substituted alcohol. For small primary and secondary alcohols, there is some reactivity by an SN2 mechanism, but the SN1 mechanism with tertiary alcohols is the most reactive. Therefore, Tertiary alcohol is the correct answer." The fox answers and narrows his eyes, deciding he's had enough of entertaining the teacher's petty squabble.

"You're rather sophomoric with not getting your way, aren't you?" he leaned forward, just barely loud enough for the ignorant flesh before him to hear and said with his dark eyes focused on the now enraged and shocked professor.

"If you plan to embarrass a student, at least pick a way that won't cause such humiliation to yourself by asking pathetically simple questions. Oh yes, and another word of advice; you may want to stop being so blatant with your asinine hatred for me, or at least stop being so pathetically crass about it." the spirit sneered at the "teacher" and crossed his legs with his chin resting on his fist.

"Did I answer your questions right, Mr. Harass?" he purposefully mispronounced the man's name with an innocent expression.

"Yes... you did," the red faced man spat through gritted teeth.

He leaned forward slowly, so his upper body was propped up on the desk, a few inches from Harris' face, seeing the teacher blush, flustered by the lack in space.

" _Then why are you still at my desk?_ " he asked in a quiet and silently threatening way, leaning forward so just Adrian Harris could hear and see his eyes darken to a terrifying black color that seemed to extinguish the light it sucked in.

The man clearly caught on that Stiles was now something very dangerous and walked swiftly back to his desk to continue teaching, still not taking his eyes off the boy who was agonizingly out of character, not even when talking to other students.

The few pack members he shared the class with looked worried.

* * *

After class, the Fox was approached by a concerned looking Lydia Martin.

"Stiles? Are you okay?" Oh so now she cares. She probably wouldn't have batted an eyelash if Jackson had been with her to keep her hormones busy. The thought pissed off the spirit more than it should have.

"Of course, why?" he asked with a flawless Stiles impression, his lips tilting slightly into a familiar bemused grin, obviously setting the banshee off guard and making her visibly relax.

"Well, you've never acted like that before..." she trailed off hesitantly.

"Like what, Lyds?" his voice was pleasant and sounded genuinely curious when in fact, the chaotic Fox couldn't care less if he tried. The familiar nickname soothed her nerves completely, her barriers collapsing for the familiarity that the spirit imitated perfectly. Humans were such naive, foolish creatures. He barely had to put any effort into deceiving any of them: even when they were partially paranormal. It was as amusing as it was boring, ironically.

"So... _done_ with it." she answered and furrowed her brows, not in suspicion but in concern.

The Nogitsune felt his blood boil in his veins, magic wanting to spark out but contained by countless centuries of patience. She had _no right_ to question him when she had abandoned the sweet hearted human for a steroid popping muscle head who could barely spell his name. But he must be patient, he could bide his time... for the moment. She should be thankful she was unimportant enough that he didn't feel like slaughtering her and painting the halls with a familiar shade of red.

"Sometimes you just get sick of being treated like you're expendable," he stated and shut the locker door before turning on his heel with no other words spoken. If the redhead opened her mouth one more time he might lose his temper and stitch her lips shut... or cut out her tongue. Either way, it'd blow his cover before he took care of business.

He could feel Stiles scratching at the walls of his subconscious where he was being kept and sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a minute to gather his control and go into an abandoned classroom before locking the doors with magic, going into a supply closet and sitting cross legged. He closed his eyes and traveled to a place he liked to call the Soulscape.

* * *

He took a second to look around at Stiles' soul. It was a beautiful place, filled with odd looking flowers with glowing orbs. These were his Fields of Memory; and it pissed the spirit off to see the occasional black orb floating inside an equally dark flower. Sad memories, angry memories... the boy shouldn't have either.

He'd admit he had a "yandere-ish" moment thanks to the intense beauty of the Soul-Scape, finding a soul as pure and beautiful as Stiles' was rare and he wanted to preserve it like the anomaly it is.

Hewanted the human to rely on only him and forgot that in doing so, he would actually cause the boy more pain and more of those sad, heartbreaking flowers. Someone with such a pure soul should never feel so much pain, should never have their spirit tainted with bitter memories. He walked through, careful to not crush any flora underfoot. It had been a while since he showed anyone his true appearance rather than the mummified terror he used to frighten people into submission. It was refreshing: almost **freeing** in a way.

"Stiles? It's considered rude to call someone over and never show up yourself," he advised and heard the sound of someone walking out of the hall of dreams.

"Once again; it can be considered rude to just invite someone in and not be there to greet them, though I don't particularly mind hide and seek." he teased, looking around before finally seeing the nervous boy standing by the waterfall of thought. Y'know when it feels like you have all these ideas until something blocks it? That's the Waterfall/Lake of Thought. Ironically, the blockages only appear when people start doubting themselves. Humans are such strange, facinating creatures...

"A soul is a marvelous place, isn't it? Each one looks different in one way or another: just like how every human being is different from the other," The fox spirit hummed philosophically and stood in front of the human, still observing the surroundings.

Stiles turned and looked at him, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms subconsciously as if protecting his heart from anything the Fox wanted to try.

"Nice to see you too," the spirit drawled. "I'm assuming you called me here for something more than this _riveting_ conversation." Maybe he should consider leaving Stiles' body for a bit, the boy's sarcasm was becoming second nature, at this point.

"Why did you take me over again? I mean, after hiding all this time?" the human was anxious, it was obvious. He wasn't even trying very hard to hide it.

"Actually Stiles, I'm practically _fused_ with you at this point; if you get rid of me your body will **rot** without the additional magic to heal itself and keep it going." The Fox states patiently and sits on a rock, crossing his legs and clasping his hands in front of him, bright gold eyes staring into whiskey brown. "And I wasn't _hiding_ , I was recovering because you and your friends damaged my soul enough that I needed time and peace to recover- thanks for that, by the way."

"You're welcome," the mortal boy sassed with a faux smile, earning a sigh from the fox who ran a hand through his hair.

"How about this? Ask me a question and I'll answer honestly," the spirit bargains, keeping a nonchalant, open posture to put the human at ease.

Stiles gave him a wary stare, eyes searching his, looking... lost and confused. "Why should I trust you?"

"I've never outright lied to you, Stiles. I detest falsifying my statements- I don't always tell whole truths, but they always come to light eventuall, regardless." The Fox checked his claws and picked at the invisible dirt under his sharp nails.

"... What's your name?"

"Kurotsuki. Don't go running your mouth about it either; names are a powerful thing to hold over a spirit," the black haired Asian-model states and gives the human a warning stare, his previously dark cocoa brown eyes flashing bright gold ominously.

Stiles faintly recognized how attractive the Nogitsune's [form](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/ninjacandy/15436823/107042/107042_original.jpg) was this time- in a totally not gay way- not that there was anything wrong with it! His skin was a deep, bronze tan, he had slight stubble giving him an image of a man in his late thirties- mid forties, he was tall, muscled, and exuded an air of confidence and effortless elegance that Stiles wouldn't dare even dream of having. Stiles was expecting the stereotype for his appearance; y'know, pale skin with black, soulless eyes and long-as-hell nails used to rip still-beating hearts from chest cavities. This was... _very_ different- in a good way.

"Why do you look like that?" Stiles asked, receiving an answer quickly (for once).

"Believe it or not, this is what I looked like when I was human." Kurotsuki gestured to his body like a smartass, as if Stiles may have been questioning someone else.

"You were a _human_?" Stiles asked and widened his eyes. He had assumed the Nogitsune was _always_ a spirit; albeit one that used savage mental torture to play around with its victims and tear them apart at their minds.

"Most beings of the supernatural usually were at some point, Stiles." The way the spirit-Kurotsuki said it told Stiles it was a sensitive subject, making him drop it. For now, at least.

"How old are you?"

"What's the year?"

"2016?" Stiles furrowed his brows.

Kurotsuki closed his eyes briefly, seeming to do the math behind his eyelids and tapping a claw-like nail on his knee. "..One-thousand nine-hundred and sixty-four years, not counting your new 'Leap Year' time nonsense," Kurotsuki says softly, his face and voice impassive but his eyebrows were furrowed in slight grief. "Strange how easy it is to forsake your humanity even when you're still human."

"What does that mean?" Stiles blinked.

Kurotsuki sliced his eyes in Stiles' direction out of his peripheral vision and then looked away again. "Let's say it's easy to want to cause chaos to humanity once it strips you of your rights as a human and leave it at that. However, I'll assume despite how many questions you have that it's not the reason you called for me."

"You assume correctly, I want my body back." Stiles crossed his arms over his chest again, though he seemed significantly more relaxed since at least a few of the questions flooding his mind were answered. Kurotsuki also took notice that the waterfall of thought was flowing a bit more calmly, not quite as violent as before. He must've calmed the boy somewhat.

"It isn't safe yet," the spirit hummed and closed his eyes again, veiling liquid gold from Stiles.

"Why do you care!? You tried to kill me before!" Stiles guffawed.

"I didn't try to specifically _kill_ you; if anything I was trying to train you," Kurotsuki corrects with his arms crossed, mimicking Stiles' stance.

"By locking me in my mind?! 'Cause nothing says friendly bonding like having your body possessed and your weaknesses taken advantage of!" Stiles was silenced when Kurotsuki's eyes once again glowed pure amber, staring into the human's eyes with an intensity that made the human's bones feel like they were melted in place. The seriousness in his smooth, deep voice making the human unconsciously memorize every word.

"Stiles, I was not the first creature to share your body with you." came the grim but honest answer, one Stiles wasn't entirely sure he actually wanted to know.

"... What do you mean?" Stiles cut his rant and stared at the Nogitsune with wide eyes.

"I was attracted to _you_ ," he poked the scrawny boy's chest to specify. "Because of the negative aura around you. At first I thought it was your anxiety mixing with depression, but it was much... _darker_. Almost like you had the shadow of death following you. When I was in your soul, before I revealed myself, I found two of the seven deadly sins in the depths."

".....You found who in my what now?" Stiles ordered, genuinely bemused and put his hands on his hips.

"They're demons that represent the sins; Lust, Greed, Envy, Pride, Gluttony-"

"And Wrath? Like, the religious sins?" Stiles snuck in, noting how easily Kurotsuki allowed him into the explanation.

"Yes, only personified. Meaning they have forms and personalities, and they're not always agreeable."

"How long have they... y'know, been using me as free housing?" Stiles rubbed the back of his head, trying to accept the fact that he was basically a supernatural hotspot for god knows how long and _why_.

"At least since you were twelve, maybe even earlier, they're pretty deeply rooted in your soul at this point. I didn't speak to them, but you always know when you're in the presence of a Sin." The Nogitsune informs and sits next to Stiles, who was sitting cross legged on the grassy landscape.

Stiles sighed and gripped his head again, his fingers weaving into soft locks of hair. _'I really need to cut that,'_ his mind commented offhandedly. Here he was being used as a motel for evil spirits, two of his best customers were criminals and Stiles was concerned about his _hair_. What did Stiles do wrong to deserve this supernatural stress weighing him down and making his hair grow?

"Stiles, calm yourself, they're still dormant and they don't seem to have any intentions of showing up for a while." the fox spirit soothed.

"How long is 'a while'?" the human asks suspiciously.

"Long enough." Kurotsuki flicked his hand as a sign of setting the conversation aside.

"I'm going to stay in control long enough to track down what's going on, then the reigns are yours." the fit Asian promises, steepling his hands.

"Won't people start noticing I'm not acting like myself?" Stiles fished for excuses.

"Stiles, I think you've forgotten my amazing acting skills." Kurotsuki imitated Stiles' voice and sass perfectly earning a wry grin from the human. "They didn't notice last time- they sure as hell won't notice now."

"Right, you did take over plenty of times. I still want to come out of my mind palace at some point." Stiles gestures around himself limply, earning an arched brow from the spirit.

"You're free to take control most of the time, so long as I get enough time to research and plot." he promises and claps his hand on Stiles' shoulder in a gentle, reassuring way.

"If you say so," Stiles sighs and, much to his surprise, the fox spirit holds his hand out for a shake.

"Do we have a deal?" the spirit's eyes glowed as he asked, hand outstretched patiently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's anything wrong with this, let me know. I had to rush through it because I have four other stories just on this site I need to update.


	3. The scent of death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles learns about his new ability to smell death, and Coach gives an unexpected pep talk.

* * *

"First, I have a few conditions." the spirit arched his brow at the request but nonetheless nodded, moving his hand from open air and placing it on an out-cocked hip, right at his slim but muscular waist.

"Fine then, what is it you want?" Stiles tapped his chin as if thinking about it making the spirit roll his eyes heavenward, more amused than irritable. Gods have mercy...

"First, no more causing chaos- at least stay within reason! No killing people!" he said sternly, causing Kurotsuki's ear to flick slightly.

Kurotsuki gave a woe-is-me sigh that would land him the lead role for any acting part but nodded. "Alright-"

"And!" Oh heavens, there's more.

"You'll tell me more about your life." well, the fox hadn't expected that one, actually. He probably should have, considering who it was he was bargaining with.

"... Fine, I accept your terms. Now, do we have a deal?" he outstretched his hand again, shadowy flames that looked like they'd incinerate anything that got within a foot of it.

Stiles slowly took the hand that looked like it was on fire, black flames dancing between his fingers and feeling pleasantly warm rather than burning, like putting your hand in front of a heater during winter.

He shook the other's hand sheepishly and jolted when the flames crawled around his wrist and formed an odd bracelet looking tattoo, each circle had a strange symbol. "What the fresh hell is this!?"

"It's a seal of course; those demons can't get out and more can't get in, meaning unless they've been specifically summoned they can't bother you." the fox promises and stands, looking skyward.

"Oh, and I believe it's your shift." he mused, disappearing before Stiles can ask what he meant.

* * *

Stiles blinked when he was brought back to reality, letting out a relieved sigh until he realized he was in a broom closet. He stood up, cracking his spine, then walked out, opening the door out of the closet of cleaning supplies. Huh, only ten minutes went by. He walked out into the hallway and noticed no one in the corridor at the moment, he had five minutes to get to class since he missed lunch.

"Hey Stiles," one of his favorite teachers (and coincidentally his next period teacher), Mr. Wells greeted with a grin on his face. "Cool tattoo, but you might wanna hide it in school."

Stiles blinked slowly, trying to comprehend what he said before glancing at his hand, twisting it and blanching when he saw his wrist. Nope, not a dream, then. He pulled his sleeves down securely to cover the markings twining his wrist, subconsciously thanking the teacher before going on his way. He might be a sarcastic, sassy human but he had manners when he respected someone enough.

"Okay, let's stay calm here, Stiles. So the Nagitsune's all like 'I think I'm gonna stay here, you have free cable and WiFi and shit, plus I get free breakfast and you can't say no to that. Oh yeah, and just so you know, there are demons inside you who were there since your soul is a comfy little supernatural hot spot- but don't worry! We're cool now so I'll take care of them for you, but we need joint custody of your body until I get rid of them, so let's all get along even though I'm one of the reasons your pack hates you-" Stiles stopped his rambling and looked down at the covered mark on his wrist when the thought swirled around.

No, the fox-... _Kurotsuki_ , didn't do anything; he didn't _need_ to. His pack had been slowly pushing him out for a while before he came along; they just did it in a more inconspicuous way. As a matter of fact, that was probably the push he needed to feel enough despair for the spirit to take root in his soul.

"Stiles!" a familiar, accented and semi-robotic voice called, along with the sound of heels smacking the polished floors behind him.

"Oh great, _now what_?" Stiles grumbled to himself under his breath.

The answer was Kira jogging up beside him, making the spirit in him growl threateningly in the back of his head, startling him a bit. It was obvious the elder fox ~~hated~~ _disliked_ Kira intensely. Enough that he wanted to take control and slash her jugular out with his claws, but since that would probably attract attention, he didn't.

'Lucky kit,' he heard the Nogitsune grumble irritably, almost making Stiles snicker, which he covered with a cough.

Nogitsune and Kitsune couldn't stand one another; their natures were far too different despite their shared love of mischief and trickery, and they regarded one another as nuisances. So Kurotsuki would come to tell him later when he asked.

"What happened back there?" she demanded with the usual arrogant air around her, making Kurotsuki want to just take possession and slap her face for being disrespectful. Not even a greeting.... that was a sign that you considered the one you were speaking to as inferior.

"Hello to you too, Kira. It _is_ lovely weather outside! I'm fine, thanks for asking. How are you?" Stiles drawled sarcastically before walking down the hall to his next class, only having about two minutes left.

"I mean it, Stiles," she said with a warning tone, following him stubbornly.

"Mean what?" Stiles drawled uncaringly in response.

"What was wrong with you in Mr. Harris' class?" she clarified, tapping her foot condescendingly, making the fox spirit want to break it.

Stiles arched a brow despite the fact she couldn't see it and shrugs. "I don't know what you're talking about," the flowed from his mouth like the blood his Nogitsune wanted to spill on the polished hallway floors.

"Yes, you do. You were acting... not like yourself."

"How would you know? This is the first time you've spoken to me in three weeks," he blurted and felt himself stop briefly before reaching his classroom, walking in and taking his seat just before the bell rang. He looked up and saw Kira's hurt face before she left and it made his blood boil: she had **no** right to look at him like that.

"Hello, everyone! You all know that today is quiz day, get your pencils and I'll hand out your papers." Mr. Wells said and ran a hand through his shaggy white hair, his pale skin and pale pink eyes tell-tale signs that he was an albino, his strong physique and tall figure showed he worked hard to keep himself healthy and in shape.

Mr. Wells passed him his paper with a small smile, earning one in turn, but Stiles wrinkled his nose a bit and scratched it to cover the act. His teacher smelled weird... like, if impending death had a smell, it would be his. Stiles didn't think he could explain it even if he tried. It was kinda like smoke and melting iron mixing with rain...

Mr. Wells gave the signal to start, the freckle-dotted boy wrote down each answer effortlessly and automatically, his mind stuck on the queer scent lingering on his instructor like a permeating second skin. It was concerning and befuddling, so he asked his resident fox about it.

'What's going on with Mr. Wells? He smells weird,' he converses in his mind, pushing the button of his mechanical pencil and hearing the ever satisfying click of graphite pushing through.

'Caught a whiff, hmm? That's the smell of death,' the fox answered, sounding a bit thoughtful.

'I thought death smelled, y'know, worse? I've smelled dead bodies before; this smells different-'

'Stiles,' the sigh cut him off when he realized he was about to start rambling.

'Sorry, Scott gets annoyed too,' he admitted sheepishly, drumming his fingers on his thigh.

'I'm not particularly annoyed by it, I'm impressed that you can talk for so long without breathing.' the friendly jibe made Stiles chuckle quietly, a hand over his mouth to hide his grin. How long had it been since he'd last joked with someone?

'That's the _physical_ smell of death, the supernatural smell of impending death is more ominous, the worse the smell, the worse the death.' Kurotsuki stated and finishes the conversation, probably to rest for a bit after controlling his body for so long.

He finished before anyone else (as usual) but instead of going upfront to the desk and handing it in immediately with an air of superiority like he normally would, he mindlessly doodled on the corners of the page while he pondered the smell; a monkey swinging on a stick, a fish laughing at an angry crab trapped in a bubble, a cat playing with a ball of yarn and a bird flying from a broken cage. He didn't even realize what he was drawing, more focused on how he could help his nicest instructor avoid death. It didn't smell _bad_ , more ominous than anything... did that mean he'd have a peaceful death? Stiles hopes so- if he couldn't find a way to help.

'Don't even think about it, Stiles.' his guardian fox advised with an all-knowing voice. 'Interfering with death never ends well, just accept that there are somethings you just can't change.'

Stiles frowned. 'You sound like you speak from experience,' he said slowly in his mind, cautiously.

'... I am,' was the quiet but clipped answer.

Stiles could tell that was the end of the discussion. The bell rang, interrupting his thoughts, he got up with everyone else and handed in his sheet to the always smiling Mr. Wells. He'd miss that smile, Stiles thought distantly. Mr. Wells was one of the very limited teachers who was nice, and one of the even fewer who were nice to _Stiles_ and genuinely liked him. He had a wife, two daughters and a son.

"Mr. Wells?" Stiles asked once the last student left.

"Yes, Stiles?" the young ~~(why must the good die young? Stiles wondered mournfully)~~  teacher smiled in his kind way, wearing silver rimmed glasses.

"Have you been... Uh, feeling well lately?" he asked softly, hoping he didn't sound suspicious.

"I've felt wonderful," Mr. Wells smiled again, but it seemed off... like he was sad. "What makes you ask?"

"You just seem... tired." Stiles shrugged lamely in hopes of brushing any suspicion aside.

The teacher looked at him for a second before he sighed and smiling once again at Stiles as if he had passed some major test, taking his glasses off to rub his light sensitive eyes with the heel of his palm.

"And here I'd thought I'd hidden it well... then again, you always were sharper than the average person, Stiles." Stiles blushed and shifted in place, not used to such honest compliments from other people but didn't interrupt.

"I was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer." Stiles knew his face must've been comically horrified if the soft laugh escaping his teacher was anything to go by.

"It's the fourth time it's come back, but I've decided to just stop fighting... I'm too tired to go through another surgery. I've gone through it since I was your age," he smiled again.

"How long?" he whispered, earning a tired smile from his teacher who somehow managed to hear him.

"Four months before I have to be hospitalized... then maybe a week or two before I pass." He didn't look particularly sad at the idea of death, if anything, the young man seemed relieved he'd finally get a break from fighting a long, losing battle with an invincible enemy.

"But... what about your family?" he mutters and regrets it when Mr. Wells gets faint traced of tears in his eyes, the older man hiding it by discreetly wiping his waterline with his finger as he placed his spectacles back on his face.

"They were sad at first, but they've accepted it. They understand that I don't want to fight a losing battle anymore," with that, Stiles had to leave to go to his next class, wishing his teacher well, almost numb at the icy realization.

'Isn't there _anything_ you can do, Kuro? Any magic fox guardian power thingy you have stored up for this stuff?' Stiles asked the being dwelling in his mind and soul.

'Stiles, I'm not allowed to interfere with death, only cause it. Besides, he won't die from his cancer, his smell would have been absolutely repulsive. There's nothing like the smell of disease, and you _never_ forget it.' Stiles could envision the spirit cringing at the memory

Stiles furrowed his brows and rubbed his chin. 'Then what does he die from?'

'It'll probably be on the news.' Stiles dropped the subject, not liking the nonchalance in the Fox's voice. He understood why though: Kurotsuki had both seen and caused too many deaths in his existence nothing really phased him anymore. But one question lingered on the forefront of the human's jumbled mind.

'Don't you feel anything? I mean, for people?' he asked awkwardly.

'What are you trying to ask Stiles? That's a vague question for someone so loquaciously inquisitive about everything.' Stiles could hear a mix of playful teasing and genuine confusion, so he cleared his throat despite the fact he wasn't speaking aloud.

'I mean sympathy? Like, if you saw a kid bleeding on the street what would you do?'

'I am a being of **chaos** , Stiles. Literally, chaos personified. Just because I am kind to _you_ does not mean I hold many humans in an important light. Humans are born every day, they overpopulate the earth and care little about each other despite claiming the opposite. I can kill a thousand people right now and it would barely make a dent in the population; my kind exists to keep the number of human beings in check. Call me cruel or cold blooded, but that's why I became what I am. To answer your question, if I saw a bleeding child I would most likely kill it.' Stiles was surprisingly unaffected by the statement but something caught his attention.

'You _became_ a Nogitsune?' he could hear the creature sigh deeply, not irritable, but tired.

'Yes, Stiles. I **was** human once, remember? That's why I know their nature... better than most, at that.' Stiles dropped the subject, but both knew this was far from the end of the discussion.

* * *

After school, like whatever spirit controlling fate wasn't done with their entertainment brought on at the freckled boy's expense, Coach Finstock approached Stiles after school, his usual expression of irritation that clearly stated to anyone who could see him that he wasn't dealing with any bullshit.

"Hey, Stilinski!" he called and did his signature march towards the dotted boy.

"Yes, Coach Finstock?" he prepared himself to get torn into with coach's usual off-the-wall mocking, creative insults or yelled at for missing practice and maybe even kicked off the lacrosse team, but was rather surprised when coach wrapped his arm around Stiles' shoulder and sat them both down on a bench in an awkward but sure manner.

"Are you feeling okay, Stilinski? You haven't shown up at practice since McCall started being a little sugar plum jackass," Stiles choked back a laugh, he could always count on coach to have such an... _imaginative_ way with words and phrases.

"I know I pick on you a lot, but it's not like I hate you- I don't hate anyone, actually. Well, I hate Greenburg. In my defense everyone does- but the point is, if anything's wrong you can talk to me. Because Stiles? You're the annoying nephew I never wanted. And only _I'm_ allowed to pick on you and get away with it."

Stiles honestly had no idea how to respond to that. "I... uh, thanks, Coach. But I'm fine, Scott and I just have a bit of a.. rift, coming between us." Coach patted his back in a rough but reassuring way.

"Don't worry about it, kid. These things tend to work themselves out." Coach left when the principal started calling him to discuss the team's improvement and strategies, leaving a stunned Stiles sitting confused on the bench.

"Oh, and don't worry! I'll work him and Jackson twice as hard as usual until they man up!" the thinly bearded man called over his shoulder before turning a corner around the school to the training ground, leaving Stiles' sight.

"What just happened?" he muttered to himself, brows furrowed.

'I think your coach gave you a "pep talk".' Kurotsuki offered, sounding bored but vaguely amused in the back of his mind.

Stiles stood up and stretched, heading home and feeling a bit lighter knowing he had another teacher who actually cared about his well being even after one passed away. It was a pretty nice feeling like he wasn't that alone anymore.


	4. Meeting Asmodeus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles meets Asmodeus when he manifests in front of him.

* * *

Stiles got home to an empty house, which was rather common these days since his dad found any excuse to stay away from him, and started on his homework. Usually he'd grab a snack or put it off as long as possible, but at the moment his mind was so full it was giving him a migraine. Hopefully math would distract him, but it wouldn't for long. He had no idea how much time passed when he finished, he started at two o'clock, and it was four now, if his clock was correct. Huh, two hours. That's not so bad: he stayed up for sixteen hours once when he was trying to do English, but he kept getting distracted by pack research.

He sighed deeply and ran a hand over his face, running through things in his mind. 'They can't get to me unless I summon them... I can summon them?' he turned on his laptop and started his searching, there were some advantages to being the pack's informant, namely, he got pretty damn good and researching and finding what he needed/wanted to know in seconds.

'Maybe I should be a hacker or something- I'd be pretty damn good at it.' he thought to himself with an approving expression, finding an article on how to contact his "Inner Demons" (Stiles almost barked a disbelieving laugh at how perfect the naming was for his situation). It had a list of the things he'd need, the incantation and the typical warnings posted, several paragraphs making sure the person planning to contact their demons and trying to deter those with low will-power from trying to do the spell.

'I hope this works,' the unhelpful voice of doubt spoke up, not for the first time in the past three minutes.

'I just hope I don't blow up the house.' he corrected it, shrugging when he didn't get a response, not that he was expecting one in the first place.

"Okay team, let's get started!" he cheered to himself, disregarding the fact he was alone. He set up the back candles, drew the pentagram in red chalk and added white chalk containment runes along each star point, burned the various herbs in a clear glass bowl and recited the complicated Latin incantation. He waited several minutes and nothing happened, making the brunette feel increasingly more awkward and foolish when he could literally hear the clock ticking to tell him he was wasting time.

"Well, not everything on the internet is real, Stiles." he sighed and went to get his cleanup kit when the flames of the candles reached almost six feet in height, slowly burning into a pale pink, the flame just centering the wick a shade of fuchsia. The fire directed towards the center of the pentagram like something was sucking the fire like noodles before the flames gathered into the shape of a person, the smoke billowed from the embering candle string creating a rather ominous effect.

"That was _freaking awesome,_ " Stiles stated before he could stop himself, mind still trapped on the fact it had worked and that there was now an extremely attractive and surprisingly human looking boy (he figured it was a boy, at least) at the pentagram's center.

It took a few moments before the blond male opened his [eyes](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/00/51/18/0051185752f55ce319eaa25c1230e39a.jpg), the dark purple surrounding magenta that trapped the void that was the man's pupil was shocking and unnatural, looking almost black in the dull lighting. His pale, perfectly shaped lips pulled into a semi-lazy half smile/half smirk and a surprisingly intoxicating scent seemed to drift from the stranger he assumed was his demon, it was faint but enough to make him want more, unable to pinpoint the exact aroma.

"I believe you summoned me from the depths of your soul? I am [Asmodeus](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/53/ca/27/53ca27f500d8d078d71d3a45f1ff1683.jpg)," he introduced with a polite but still somehow mocking bow, even his voice was androgynous and smooth.

"Wait, which sin do you represent?" Stiles asked.

"I see that damned fox already chatted with you first," the smile went from lazy and somewhat welcoming to a sneer.

He looked at Stiles' wrist and rolled his eyes heavenward. "And he left a gift!" he feigned elation. He slowly trailed an elegant, pianist-worthy hand through his hair, giving it an "I-just-had-several-rounds-of-sex" ruffled look.

"Anyway, to answer your question, I am the demon of Lust, if it is not obvious" he smirked, his [eyes](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/b3/a5/ce/b3a5ce94cf4e0c8c9776b8ec44527639.jpg) suddenly gaining a seductive shine and blazing pink around his pupil in a supernaturally alluring way.

"Would you like to find out _**why**?" _ his voice purred in a way that was intimidating and threatening Stiles' already confusing sexuality.

"Uh, no... n-no thanks, man. I got tapped by a demon just last week, so I'm good." he stuttered, not able to stop the automatic defensive sarcasm/sass from making its appearance. Luckily the aristocratic demon looked more amused than offended, hooking a finger in front of his plush lips and (supposedly) unconsciously drawing attention to the shape and making an uncomfortable urge to kiss them and see what they felt and tasted like swelled in Stiles' core, to his discomfort.

"You're a funny boy,  _Świętomierz_ ," the human felt a chill that wasn't altogether unpleasant race down his spine and pool in his abdomen like boiling water from the effortlessly alluring roll that sounded suspiciously like a purr in the back of the being's throat surrounding his complicated name, making it sound easy and somehow giving an appealing effect like honeyed chocolate.

"Just Stiles is fine," he blurted without thinking, the habit pushing through again. He sniffed the air curiously. "What's that smell?"

"Hm? Oh, my apologies: that would be my pheromones," and the enchanting creature did seem genuinely apologetic for the strange perfume, a powdery blush blending on his cheeks. As soon as the human mentioned it, the smell receded to the point it was almost undetectable, Stiles found that the urge to do "inappropriate things" faded with it. Was the lust connected to his scent, or did Amadeus consciously suppress both to make things easier on him?

"Better?" Stiles nodded with a word of thanks, breathing a sigh of relief and sat down crisscross adjacent the spirit, still observing him carefully.

"May I have a chair?" Asmodeus requested politely.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure." Stiles started getting up, only to be halted by the sensual demon raising his hand in an effortlessly fluid movement with a small smile.

"Don't worry, I can get it myself. Thank you, though." Stiles was about to ask how he planned to do that when he was trapped in a seal, but was stopped with his mouth hanging open when the seductive spirit quirked a finger in a "come hither" gesture to the chair, the wooden seat flying over at the beckoning motion and stopping right behind him like a loyal pet, where he sat down and crossed his legs in an effortlessly elegant manner.

"Wait.... wait," Stiles pointed to where the chair was and where it ended up several times. It wasn't the fact the chair moved that surprised the human, that would be ridiculous after everything he'd seen and done, it was the fact the demon was able to use his magic outside of the fucking circle with containment runes.

"How!? There are, the symbol thingies were supposed to- _what_?" He sounded more awed and amazed than outraged and terrified like he probably should have. Asmodeus gave him an amused look, like a father would when their child saw them without their facial hair for the first time and unsure on who he was.

"You did very well, you should consider being an artist, Świętomierz- er, Stiles." he gave an apologetic look at the slight hiccup of using the human's real name.

"But there's one thing you didn't think on." Stiles felt bashful somewhere inside at being praised by such a perfect being but pushed it out for the sake of curiosity.

"And what's that?" Asmodeus smirked easily, a light tugging at the corner of plush lips and giving him an allusion to an effortlessly enchanting leer. He tapped on one of the symbols, the sound of something sizzling like bacon in an iron skillet made Stiles wince on behalf of the being in front of him which elicited a curious tilt of the head from aforementioned demon.

"These runes were meant for lower level demons; I'm a _Sin_. They have about as much affect as a refreshing breeze to a Harpy Eagle." Even his metaphors were elegant or intelligent while still being simple to understand.

"Uh, okay. I guess that makes sense," Stiles shrugged weakly, wincing at how sarcastic it sounded and was thankful he met the Sin that seemed the most likely to forgive mistakes first.

"It's a good thing Wrath is still resting, otherwise you would have been stuck with him." Asmodeus jested playfully, but the serious shine in his eyes suggested he was completely honest with his warning on how he acted to the most violent sin.

"Would he punch me or something?" Stiles asked. Hey, being punched was pretty easy compared to most of the crap he'd been through.

"Well, no. He's surprisingly calm most of the time, but he holds grudges for a long time. He's tactful on his reactions, though." the lust-based demon soothed and uncrossed his legs, only to recross them in the opposite.

"Why are you being so polite and honest with me? I mean, aren't demons supposed to be crafty and untrustworthy?" came the skeptic question.

Asmodeus wrinkled his nose slightly and sighed before relaxing his facial muscles. "That's a stereotype, my dear. I assure you our personalities very from demon-to-demon as it does with humans and other creatures." he thinks for a moment.

"Wrath doesn't outright lie, but he _does_ twist the truth around and tends to be more cunning than most." placing on hand on his cheek as he sighed deeply.

"Great, so I have both the most honest demon and the most deceitful. That's great," Stiles sighed and looked at the sin representative. The demon gave him a look of sympathy and reached out to pat Stiles' shoulder gently, ignoring the slight sizzling of his skin to do so when his arm left the circle.

"Are you okay? I don't think your arm's supposed to sound like bacon when my dad cooks."

Asmodeus snickered in amusement and nodded his head in reassurance. "Don't worry, it doesn't hurt me like it would a lower class spirit," he promised and pulled the sizzling appendage back into the pentagram, placing the hand on his knee where it quickly healed.

"Did you call me here for a reason? Have I or my companion done anything to make you uncomfortable?" the polite sin inquired and tapped his chin in thought, trying to think of an occasion he may have caused his vessel discomfort.

"Oh, no, you're fine, I think. I, uh, didn't even know you two were in here-" he gestured towards his body then points to his head to elaborate, "until Kuro told me." the demon looked at him with wide eyes, his lashes brushing his cheekbones when he blinked in wonder.

"The Nogitsune? It told you its name?" he muttered under his breath, probably not even intending for Stiles to hear him, if the jolt he gave when the human replied was anything to go on.

" **He** , and yes. Why?" the demon furrowed his brows and bit his bottom lips slightly before deeming Stiles trustworthy (something that seemed to be happening frequently nowadays. Maybe Stiles was just naturally frail looking?).

"Stiles, humans may think nothing of a name- seeing as they change them all the time- but to spirits, who have only one _true_ name, it means everything. A name can bind a spirit and turn it into a servant if the person knows it, the fact that a **Nogitsune** of all creatures told you its- I'm sorry, _his_ name is almost unheard of. For us, giving a name is the same as..." he drifted off and pushed a strand of silken hair behind his ear as he thought of an analogy to make it easier for the human to understand. "... I suppose it's the same as a werewolf giving a bullet carved from Mountain Ash soaked in Wolf's Bane juices to a hunter. It's a sign of extreme and rare trust."

The impact finally hit Stiles like he was shot with said metaphorical bullet; Kurotsuki had given him his name not as a form of introduction or even to be polite, but as a sign of faith in the human and hope that Stiles would return the intense level of trust he'd been gifted with. But along with that... "Then why did you give me your name? I mean, you couldn't possibly trust me just from meeting me all of ten minutes ago."

Asmodeus gave a cryptic but still gentle smile, the same one his mother would use when she was alive and he'd asked about something he wasn't supposed to know, but she thought was endearing that he'd be honest enough to ask.

"Stiles, I have been with you for a long, _long_ time. I've seen you at your best and I've seen you at your worst; I **know** I can trust you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Renunculus: radiant Charm


	5. Making Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asmodeus, Kurotsuki and the last demon converse with each other on a game plan for the troubles soon to come...

 

* * *

Asmodeus spent the rest of the day talking with Stiles, he'd ask questions the demon would answer and on occasion, he'd return the favor for the sake of propriety and to avoid making the human feel like he was annoying the spirit. It was nice to speak with another person as an individual and talk one-on-one instead of him having a one-sided conversation

While most people would consider falling asleep in front of them rude, Asmodeus took it as the human trusted him enough to show himself at his most defenseless state. It was refreshing to be judged on personality and not his species, and it was a choice he'd make sure the human wouldn't regret. He took the liberty of waving a hand to control the pencil resting on the stack of paperwork the human got from school that he didn't finish, then pointed to Stiles' backpack making the paper file in neatly where it could be easily found and zipping up the zipper on the bag.

Afterwards he snapped his fingers, getting rid of the summoning equipment and waved a hand, causing a sudden whirl of wind to whisk away the chalk lines, making him disappear back into the boy asleep, but not before snapping his fingers and teleporting the boy on his bed, under his sheets and in his pajamas. He also took a small bit of time to pat the human's head softly, not just in a temporary farewell, but to cast a spell to keep any unpleasant thoughts away from his dreamland.

"Sleep well, Stiles. I will be in touch, only call for me and I shall answer." he promises quietly, his body fading before disappearing entirely.

* * *

"Welcome back," a familiar voice greets the Lust representative dryly. He turned and saw his fellow demonic sin personification and standing a bit off was the familiar fox spirit.

"Hello, Wrath. Good evening Nogitsune- Stiles made up a nickname for you." Asmodeus stated in a clipped tone while said fox spirit rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the fond glimmer in his eyes at the mention of the human. It was clear he had an uncommon soft spot for the hyper teen.

"It seems he's gotten in contact with you against my advice. That's just like him," the tanned spirit sighed and shook his head with a slight smile ghosting his lips.

"And I also noticed during our chat that you put a seal on his wrist," the lust representative states and narrows his eyes until the looked like thin cuts, giving him a more terrifying expression than any he showed the human.

"That I did, keep in mind I still don't know if I can trust you with my human." Kurotsuki looked at him with sharp gold gilt eyes, claws extended subconsciously.

"Strange coming from a creature who caused him the most harm. Was it fun watching the poor child suffer? And what makes you think he is ' **yours** '?" Asmodeus merely crossed his arms and looked down his nose at the other spirit.

"Why are you in Stiles?" Kurotsuki growled at the demon, looking every bit the animal he truly was, his claws making their way out in intimidatingly sharp points.

"My reasons for being here are none of your concern, _Fox_." Asmodeus hissed in return.

"They most certainly are, _demon_." his eyes [narrowed](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tQPU38UZ9f4/VPTBK0gyhaI/AAAAAAAAAb8/rqEJ7sBqioI/s1600/tumblr_n4aqoarxsg1svno5wo1_500.gif) further and he set his jaw, "I won't allow you to hurt Świętomierz-"

"He prefers 'Stiles', as I recall." the demon interrupted smoothly, checking his sharp nails together.

Kurotsuki ground his teeth silently and closed his eyes, trying to scrape up any patience he had left for the damned being. "... _Stiles_. It doesn't matter what name he goes by, I won't let you hurt him in any way, shape or form. I'll rend your soul to _scraps_ before you can even start."

"Coming from the beast who caused him more distress than just about anyone or anything else, you have to right to speak to me in that manner. Know your place, **mutt**." the demon's own eyes glowed bright magenta, a warning that if the fox spirit wanted to get physical, he'd oblige in turn.

" _Enough_ already," Wrath rolled his eyes, toward heaven, knowing very well that even divine intervention wouldn't help at this point.

"You two are annoying and we have bigger fish to fry. Do either of you have news on the vampires?" he began and sat down on a stump in the SoulScape. Asmodeus at least had the decency to look a bit sheepish, while the Nogitsune stood by unabashed.

"Unfortunately not," Kurotsuki shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck, applying pressure until it pops in a satisfying way, feeling childish for quarreling when there were more pressing matters at hand, yet not particularly caring.

"We probably would have more information if you would let one of _us_ take over for a bit," Asmodeus states and gestures towards himself and Wrath in a fluid motion.

"No, I still don't trust either of you." Came the blunt, unapologetic answer.

"You do realize we could have taken over Stiles at any point for the past twelve years or so?" Asmodeus points out, pursing his lips in irritation and slight insult.

"Fucking _hell_ \- quit your incessant quibbling!" Wrath snaps making the other two jump. He rubs the bridge of his nose and mutters something under his breath about dealing with infants, despite Lust being his second eldest sibling.

"If you can't get along then face different directions and don't talk to each other, we don't have time for your petty quabbles." he sighed tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Since Świę-... _Stiles_ ," Wrath corrected with an eye-roll when Asmodeus shot him a dark look in warning, "got in contact with Asmodeus, he can speak to him in his mind without being able to take control. I, however, am still restricted to being an observer until if or when he contacts me as well. The seal is still in place," he tried to calm the other two with carefully considered facts in a soothing tone. Dear Devil he was not supposed to be the gentle one here.

"Now, are you two going to act like grown spirits or do I have to put you in separate mind corners?" he half-taunted, receiving two "humph"s in turn, making him snicker in a condescending manner.

"Now, I recommend we come up with a plan before Stiles' idiotic ex-pack gets him _drained_." Both squirreling spirits stiffened and immediately set aside their issues to focus on the vulnerable human, much to the apparent peacemaker's relief.

"Why would they treat Stiles as they have? Even if my opinion wasn't biased, he's still one of the most valuable members given his knowledge on the supernatural and his effective research abilities." Asmodeus states and runs a hand through his silver, blue and pink tinted hair.

"They were never very intelligent, to begin with," the Nogitsune states dryly and crosses his arm. "They couldn't even tell when I would possess Stiles before, the damnable fools," he mutters with disdain.

"They started pushing him out long before I came along, though." he added when he saw the accusatory glint in the sensual demon's eye.

"Another thing we should worry about, aside from the coven, is that Theo character." Asmodeus states, knowing pointing fingers at each other wouldn't solve any of Stiles' problems... even if he really wanted to.

"True... he _is_ someone Stiles is right to not trust... especially since he usually gives everyone a chance; you'd think his pack would learn that he's rarely wrong when it comes to something as important as doppelgangers." Wrath agrees.

"He has a disgusting stench clinging to him," Kurotsuki wrinkled his nose and sniffs as if he could still smell the nasty odor. "Like rotting flesh, blood and rancid tears."

"Stiles is waking up," Wrath acknowledged and looked upwards as if he could see the ceiling of Stiles' room.

"I'll take today for a while, if you don't mind, Nogitsune." Asmodeus states rather than asks, earning a harsh glare but nonchalant shrug from the aforementioned spirit.

"What do we do about the-"

"I will warn him." Asmodeus cut off the fox regretlessly.

* * *

The next morning, Stiles wondered if he had dreamed up his encounter with the demon of lust, only knowing for sure when he stood where Asmodeus had and smelled sulfur, faint traces of chalk could be found where he scribbled to hard on the floor and the previously new candles, while neatly placed on the shelf and out of the way, were completely melted and the wick was singed.

"So it wasn't a dream... that's fan-freaking-tastic." he sighed and tugged his hair lightly.

'You should not do that Stiles, you will hurt yourself.' said human jumped almost four feet and one-eighty'd so quickly he should've given himself whiplash before calming down when he realized it was just the lust representation.

"Oh, it's you. Sorry, Azzy, didn't think you'd talk to me again so soon." the brunette comments aloud and sits down next to his laptop, checking the clock and groaning when he noticed it was three in the morning.

'Azzy?' Stiles ran his hands over his face, trying and failing to rid himself of any exhaustion still lingering inside him, knowing if he went to sleep now he'd never wake up for school.

"Crap, sorry. It just kinda-"

'I like it,' Asmodeus stated honestly before Stiles could ramble and defend himself.

"Really?" the human asked in genuine surprise. Usually, people got upset when he gave them nicknames almost immediately after meeting them, whether they were teasing or sincere.

'Mhmm... it is the first nickname I have ever had. Thank you,' Stiles was genuinely humbled at the sincere gratitude in the demon's voice when he said this and knew he would probably be giving the male an awkward bro-hug if he were physically there.

'The Nogitsune has ~~reluctantly~~  passed the reins to me for a short time.' Asmodeus answered the unasked question floating in Stiles' head at where his original possessed conscious was.

'Stiles. We have... another problem,' Asmodeus says after a moment and Stiles feels the fine hairs on his neck stand straight up, his gut roiling in concern- he still hadn't figured out the whole Theo issue and he already had more to deal with? Why did the world love screwing him over!?

"What-" he cleared his throat when he his voice cracked, "what do you mean 'another'?"

'Well, on top of a coven of vampires... the other Sins have moved into town- literally; they may have been drawn in by our auras.' Asmodeus states darkly, not a hint of his usual leniency.

Stiles may or may not have almost passed out. He was too young to have an aneurysm every day, dammit.

"Who are they and what do they act like?" Stiles groaned and flopped face-down on the bed.

'There is Envy, Pride, Sloth, Greed, and Gluttony.' Asmodeus muses and sorts through his thoughts on how to describe each sibling, trying to sugarcoat it or scare Stiles to badly with unnecessarily traumatizing details.

'Gluttony is very childish and very likely to possess a child as an excuse. She considers her massacres as a game and treats it as such. She is easily distracted though, so escaping her is easy so long as you have a proper diversion.' Asmodeus materialized on the bedside and while Stiles should have been terrified or shocked, he wasn't anymore. After everything he'd seen the demon do before, this was probably nothing to him.

The demon crossed his long legs and patted Stiles' head reassuringly, the human not in the least bit surprised at how comforting it was. Hey, his ex-best friend is a werewolf and most of his "friends" are also supernatural creatures. He's kinda desensitized to the whole "dangerous supernatural creature" routine by now, especially when the said supernatural creature never hurt him even when it had the opportunity time and again.

"Pride is, true to her name, very prideful- she is arrogant and hates to be challenged or lose- she will probably pick a figure of authority. However, she has a weakness for games and thinks she will never lose." Asmodeus continued his musings, fiddling with strands of Stiles' surprisingly soft brown hair in a way that made the human melt into the touch, practically purring.

"Why don't they have their own bodies? _You_ can materialize," Stiles pointed out curiously.

"Because I have spent several years with you, storing my energy. Maintaining our own form is not particularly difficult, but it requires a great deal of focus. It takes more energy to possess a body fully, but not as much concentration since we can lock our hosts away in their own mind, or even disintegrate their soul entirely- though the latter usually leads to the body rotting." Asmodeus ceased the action of rubbing Stiles' head, almost making the boy whine in turn.

"You should get ready for school though," he mused, seemingly in afterthought.

"School? What about- Oh crap!" Stiles darted up like a bullet and started pulling on his clothes, forgetting the demon who thankfully receded back into the human's body to give him privacy.

"Are you still there?" Stiles asked aloud as he slung his bag on his back and darted downstairs to grab a pack of Poptarts.

'I cannot particularly go anywhere, Stiles.' Asmodeus stated with an amused tone, 'not that I really want to.'

"Right," Stiles popped off a piece and chewed it while he ran.

"So, the other sins? What are they like?" he asked around a mouthful, crumbs falling on his shirt with zero fucks given.

'Well, Greed is, true to his nature, greedy and selfish. Everything takes a back seat to his "needs". He will most likely be a banker or some such thing, and simply throwing something of value gives him the need to chase after it.' Stiles kept an impassive expression as he walked into school, ignoring his "friends" when they waved and called him.

'Wrath is actually usually very calm and easygoing as I have stated previously... it takes a lot to make him angry but once he is, he holds grudges for centuries. He still has not forgiven me for "stealing" his succubus girlfriend.'

Stiles snorted, covering it with a cough. 'Wow... that's- wow.' Stiles laughed when no one else was around. He finished off the first toaster pastry and wrapped the other up, putting it in his pocket to eat in secret during class. 'Aren't succubi demonesses of sex and lust?'

'Yes, you are rather well informed, Stiles,' Asmodeus praises genuinely, making Stiles simultaneously preen from the uncommon praise and choke back an instinctive sassy remark, remembering that it was genuine praise and not mocking. If there was one thing he was proud of though, it was his capability for research, so hearing someone praise him for it was refreshing.

'You are not used to positive acknowledgment, are you Stiles?' Asmodeus' soft voice sounded torn between sorrow for the underappreciated human and rage for those who made him feel the need to defend himself and his decisions over every little comment.

'No, they've always second-guessed me... I guess I'm just used to people assuming what I think or say as inconsequential,' the human answered honestly.

'Well... you humans have always taken your most precious things for granted until you lose them. They will learn when they need you and no longer have you,' Stiles didn't know why, but the words made him feel much better. Maybe because deep down, he knew it was true. Maybe because he knew that they'd regret not being there for him when he was there for them at every turn. Especially when they needed research done; let's see how they handle staying up for days on end researching and cherry-picking through reality and fiction only to be underappreciated and scolded for maybe one or two minuscule mistakes (one of them being _spelling_ or some stupid shit like that).

"Stiles Stilinski!" a familiar, snide voice belonging to a certain blond werewolf.

'Oh god, why?' Stiles mentally groaned at the familiar voice calling to him across the yard, looking at the sky for divine intervention.

'If you need someone to take over for the day...' Asmodeus offered reassuringly.

'Nah... better to face the music myself,' he sighed. Stiles turned and faced Boyd and Erica, his face twisted into a sarcastically polite grin.

"Stiles Stilinski; why weren't you at the pack meeting?!" Stiles almost felt an inkling of hope that the pack missed him before; "Yeah, we need that information on the-" never mind. They only wanted him to do their research again- why was he even surprised.

"Maybe because I'm not part of the pack, so I don't need to be at your exclusive meeting." he blurts aloud, feeling angry at the shocked and hurt expressions on the faces. Stiles had no idea why, but he felt like Asmodeus had backed away and a stranger was taking over, bringing a sense of boiling anger shocking his veins, the odd image of an eye colored like fire in his mindscape.

"While we're being honest here, did anyone **ever** consider me to be part of the pack? Or was I just the sucker you roped into doing all the brain work because you couldn't?"

Boyd and Erica couldn't even speak, so overcome with shock, mouths agape. They were used to Stiles' witty, sarcastic responses but he never seemed so blatantly combative.

"Why are you being like this?" Erica finally asked in an uncharacteristically soft voice, flinching when Stiles' soft hazel eyes flashed hell fire orange/red, almost like the sun imploding on itself, but passed it off as a trick of the light when it disappeared a moment later.

"Well, for one thing, I'm sick of only being thought of only when I'm convenient. I'm sick and tired of taking all of your belligerent comments and I'm done being treated like a liability until you need me." With that, Stiles turned on his heel and walked away before the embittered wolves could collect their thoughts.

"That was weird," he muttered in acknowledgment when he was a decent distance away. He had no idea where the virulent anger originated from, but he couldn't help but feel much lighter, finally getting the pernicious thoughts out of his mind and in the open where they belonged.

'Stiles? I apologize, it seems Wrath lost his temper and possessed you briefly,' Asmodeus rued his faulty control in an askance for forgiveness.

'No, it's fine. So that was Wrath? I thought he'd be more... violent.'

'He is, but physical scars fade over time while emotional scars stay until your death, dragging you down even after you have died. Wrath attacks the most vulnerable and painful areas in the souls of a person. A person can only lament and deplore themselves if they know something that happened is their fault, even more so if someone else points it out.' Stiles made a noise of reflection and lost himself in the solitude of his thoughts all through his classes, his body on autopilot for his classes. He'll talk to Wrath later... maybe.


	6. Reassurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has a run in with Scott, just an hour before meeting the infamous demon of Pride.

* * *

It was the end of the day and Asmodeus and Kurotsuki had given him privacy in his Mindscape, allowing him to come up with a plan and conclusion to a few of his problems. So far, he decided to wait until the sins made their appearances and then he would judge their goals and personalities before dealing with them accordingly; if they were like Asmodeus then he'd probably just let them be. Live and let live, as the old saying goes.

"Stiles!" Screw that old saying because someone up in the sky loved throwing hurdles in wimpy Stiles Stilinski's track to watch him stumble, fall and break his face. And, by extension, his resolve.

"Hey, Scott," Stiles said in the most normal voice he could muster. He'd had just about enough of the pack barging in and trying to force him back into their little ring just so they could replace or forget him within the next few days.

"We haven't seen you in a while... how are you doing?" Oh sweet mother of god if Scott did the thing Stiles was going to- yup. There it is. The infamous "kicked-puppy-that-still-loves-you-anyway" eyes. Dammit. How often had Stiles been dragged through hell and back because of those eyes?

"Oh y'know... as well as I can be when I'm in school," he added an uncaring shrug for effect. 'And being possessed by two demon sin representations as well as the Nogitsune. You remember him, right? The one who almost killed everyone for kicks? Turns out he's acting as my guardian or did I forget to tell you? Haha, oops.' Stiles' ever so sarcastic mind ranted. 'Then again, I'm sure you've kept a lot of things secret from me, too.'

"Yeah, so... uh, Stiles? I get we haven't been there for you lately... but I was wondering if you'd come to the next pack meeting this weekend? There's some pretty big news!"

'Are you kidding me? ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME!? First, you abandon me, then when word travels that I'm trying to move on you pop up like the plague and start ruining the bits of my life I'm trying to piece together? I don't think so, Mr. Werewolf-with-puppy-eyes!' He thought acerbically.

'Calm yourself, Stiles,' Kurotsuki's voice chimed in a pacifying tone, like a parent calming their child from a tantrum. 'Starting a fight at school isn't a good idea.' He could practically feel the fox spirit patting his head, trying to calm his raging thoughts... actually, how was Kurotsuki doing that? It was kinda off-putting, even if it was reassuring.

Stiles took a few deep but inconspicuous breaths and pretended to think about Scott's offer by cocking his head and staring at a nearby tree to give the illusion that he was considering the offer, a small "hmm" humming in his throat to further falsify genuine interest. "Sorry man, not tonight. I have a ton of homework," he shrugged in the most nonchalant manner he could manage, ignoring Scott's look of disappointment.

"Oh... okay. Cool, maybe next time?" he asked hopefully.

'Not likely,' his mind rejected with a sneering scoff. "Sure," he said instead.

Of course, Stiles had no intention or reconnecting with the pack. He had his own team at the moment; one that couldn't abandon him no matter how much they wanted to.

'We would never want to leave you,' Asmodeus' voice rings clear and reassuringly gentle, negating his worries and such with ease, the stress of the day hitting him as he passed the park that marked the ten minute trek home, a lethargic sensation settling in his bones and making him suppress an irritable whine. He couldn't wait to go home, finish his homework and go to bed. Of course, he'd set out some dinner for his dad in case he bothered coming home. He probably wouldn't, John couldn't even look his son in the eye since the Nogitsune incident. Not that Stiles couldn't understand, he would have reacted about the same, except he'd make his kid bathe in holy water and eat a lot of salty foods.

That reminded him of some weird show... "Paranatural"? Something like that- it didn't really matter. Sometimes his life felt like a TV show... with really fucked up writers who liked seeing him struggle(1).

"Excuse me, sir?" a small voice called. Stiles looked down and saw a kid, about to his knee with short, fluffy brown hair, pale blue eyes, and tanned skin. "Mister, could you please help me? I got my ball stuck in a tree," he admits sheepishly, drawing a circle in the cement with the toe of his sneaker, his hands fisted into his shorts.

"Uh... sure, I guess. Can you lead me to it?" he conceded, figuring his bed could wait a little longer. The boy beamed happily and lead him to a tree near the back of the park.

"It's up there, see it?" he asks and points to the rubber ball stuck on a branch of a fir tree. It wasn't too far up, thank god because Stiles had a fear of heights, and he could reach it pretty easily.

"Yeah... I think I can get it," Stiles mused and grabbed the first branch, carefully making his way up the tree. One good thing about being involved in the supernatural that made a good chunk of his current life, he could do a lot of physical work more easily than before. Running for your life on a daily basis tended to do that for you.

"Okay, I think I got it..." Stiles stretched his arm over to where the ball lay, nestled in the natural plume of green needles. He tossed the ball down with a warning and started climbing back down, learning from experience that he should never, _ever_ look down.

"Thank you so much, mister!" the boy grinned happily, blue eyes sparkling. "My name is Levi, who are you?"

"Oh, uh, I'm Stiles Stilinski." the boy's smile seemed to turn darker.

"... _Really_ ~?" the way he said it made Stiles feel like he just signed his death certificate, chills ran down the human's spine and goosebumps slide up his arms. He heard several voices- Asmodeus, Kurotsuki and another he didn't recognize screaming for him to turn tail and run or let someone take over, before a burst of pale green flashed in his eyes, despite their surroundings remaining the same, and he couldn't hear their voices anymore. Having their voices suddenly cut off was even more terrifying than the Kanima experience.

The boy changed into a [man](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/11/28/a1/1128a1bb8f2cc8a88afcf9eb83ab28a0.jpg); short, fluffy chestnut brown hair elongated into silky, straight ebony locks, pale blue eyes turned into glowing, slit pupil [acidic green](https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR4R1hDo9yrNlhGETxHqDVrpieoTu0daZy_dc75WEhjiCKtIpSX) that held the promise of misery to anyone in their gaze... which just so happened to be locked onto Stiles. Healthy skin tanned from hours playing outside in the harsh sun turned pale and cold like the icy hands of the reaper and thick, swooping horns grew from the silken charcoal strands of hair.

"Good evening, Świetomierz Stilinski~," came the playful goad from thin, ashen lips with a surprisingly childish tone.

"Wait, what just-what the- WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!?" Stiles shrieked and jumped backwards, pointing at the newly revealed demon for emphasis. If he kept running into these situations, his head would pop off from how often it was turning lately.

"Well that's rude," "Levi" frowned, tilting his head.

"That answered nothing," Stiles sassed and almost physically slapped himself. Why the _fuck_ was he sassing a potentially dangerous origin of sin? Nice Stiles, why don't you spill some coffee on him while you're at it?

"And I already answered, but I'll humor you in your short, curious little lifespan." he gave a mockingly hyperbolic bow, one arm over his belly and the other swept to the side as if he were inviting Stiles to waltz. "I am Leviathan, the origin of the deadly sin of Envy. such an _honor_ to meet you, Stiles," he seemed to sneer in superiority at the human, the word "honor" seemed to drip with jeering acrimony like he was trying not to snicker when the word passed the gate of his lips.

"Wait, isn't Leviathan a conglomerate of demons and spirits or something?" Stiles inquires, unable to help his curiosity.

Leviathan arched his brow with an unamused air. "You shouldn't believe everything you read,  _Świetomierz_. Humans have a terrible habit of assuming whatever they decide is right. _Legion_ is the agglomeration of souls; **I** am my own 'person'," he corrects and sits.

Stiles almost warns him when he sits like there's a chair, only for him to float in place like he wasn't only sitting on air and that there was an actual chair steadily keeping him up. "How are you... doing that?" Stiles asked, on the verge of bursting into his annoying, Scifi fanboy questions.

"You humans walk with a veil over your eyes, even to your own potential. Sitting on air is a simple matter that doesn't even require a second thought," the demon graciously answered with a wave of his hand.

"You dropped your ball," Stiles blurted stupidly and held out the aforementioned ball to the demon who arched a thick brow. It was silent and awkward, and Stiles almost withdrew his arm before Leviathan took the ball slowly, _gently_  even, and smiled lightly, his eyes considerably softer than before.

"Thank you," he hummed genuinely and set the ball in his lap, throwing an arm over it. He stared at Stiles with a calculative look before speaking, "I've noticed you have not only a protective aura surrounding you that has the essence of two of my siblings, but you also have a fox spirit's seal." he points towards Stiles' wrist where the semi intricate marks stayed on his skin like a tattoo; permanent and hopefully a good decision he wouldn't regret one morning when the adrenaline wears off.

"You must be something special for even big brother Wrath to set a barrier over you. And despite his decorum, big brother Asmodeus doesn't warm up to others easily either." Stiles noticed that, true to his sin, Leviathan's voice was tinged lightly with jealousy when he mentioned his siblings favoring Stiles over himself, but he hid it extremely well.

Stiles also noticed an odd itch that seemed to center at the right side of his skull, right by his temple. He rubbed the spot but it only seemed to grow larger and more tingly, like an infected bug bite. It didn't hurt, per say, it was more annoying than anything.

"There he is. It seems I made Wrath mad. He always did hog his favorite toys," Leviathan fake pouts and rolls his eyes.

"I'll see you again soon, but I should leave before Wrath lets his anger out on me. Asmodeus might make an appearance and scold me too," Leviathan sighed and seemed to pout before giving a wide smirk, showing his sharper than average teeth and he bowed in a mocking replica of gentility before disappearing, the image of glowing eyes the only imprint lets when his form fizzled from existence.

"That... was _awesome_ ," Stiles muttered and stared at where the demon had been standing with wide-eyed wonder, the only thing remaining was a slightly scorched circle roughly the Leviathan's width burnt into the cement.

'Speak for yourself; we were terrified for you.' Asmodeus' voice chimed in, sounding exhausted.

"Sorry," Stiles apologized aloud, seeing as there wasn't anyone on the sidewalk with him anyway.

'You have nothing to apologize for,' Asmodeus sighed and seemed to brush off the apology like dust on his shoulder, more blunt than vindictive like most of his actions/words.

'At least you are unharmed: I would have just let Wrath loose,' the lust personified sin confesses and Stiles could see the beautiful man pushing his bangs back in one smooth move, also hearing the demon's sigh.

"Now all that's left is to talk to Wrath, go team!" Stiles threw his arms in the air, sarcasm thick in his voice.

'Be patient, Stiles. It takes a lot to make Wrath upset, but he holds grudges. Be careful with how you speak to him.' Asmodeus warned and let Stiles be alone with his thoughts once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blue Hydrangea – Connected to frigidity, turning down a romantic proposal, asking for forgiveness, and expressing regret.  
> ___________  
> (1): guilty as charged :p


	7. Slow Rebuild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Stilinski finally reaches out to his son, even if it's a small attempt, at least he's trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thyme: Courage, strength.

* * *

"Jesus why am I meeting all of the sins one after another!?" Stiles grumped and tossed his backpack on the coat-hanger by the door. He toed off his shoes and stretched his spine, sighing when he heard the satisfying pops of his vertebrae.

"God, I just wanna sleep for, like, a month," he grumbled and popped his neck to match his spine. Maybe he should try morning yoga before going to school, he heard it could help keep a person limber all day and by damn did he _need_ that.

"Stiles? Is that you?" his dad's voice sounded from the kitchen.

One part of Stiles wanted to habitually yell at him that John Stilinski wasn't allowed any unhealthy foods with special occasions as the only acceptations. Well, his dad had been avoiding him so it really wasn't his place to scold anymore... the thought was like a douse of ice-water in his stomach, sloshing around and making him feel sick. It was worse being abandoned by his dad than by anyone and everyone else. It hurt... a lot more than he'd ever been able to say aloud.

"Yeah, I'll be in my room!" 'So don't worry, you won't have to look at me.' he thought dejectedly and started heading upstairs.

"Wait, Stiles, we need to talk." Stiles turned towards the familiar voice and saw his dad standing in the doorway to the kitchen, his arms crossed.

'Okay Stiles, you got this, just... stay... calm,' Stiles tried to pep-talk himself, mentally punching himself with brass knuckles when the first thing out of his mouth was a high-pitched squeak.

'Aw crap- you can still save this!' he encouraged himself.

"Yeah, dad?" Nicely done Stiles. Eloquent as ever. The source of your country's pride right there. Oprah would be so proud.

"Hey, uh... how was school?" John asked awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck while watching his son arch a bemused eyebrow.

"Uh... fine? How was... work? Wasn't the convention all week or something?" Stiles asked, clearly inheriting his father's awkward behavior.

"Yeah... I was called back in because Carl shot his foot when he was fooling around." John admits and leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms in a way that made it clear who Stiles took after in demeanor.

"Okay... well, welcome home then. Did you want me to make you some-"

"Stiles, we need to have a serious talk," John said bluntly. The teen swallowed, his throat dry and the walls of his esophagus scraping against each other making the action unnecessarily painful.

"Is this about my grade in science, Mr. Harris-" the rambling was cut off by his father before he truly got started.

"No, Stiles, it's about... the possession incident," John said awkwardly and softly, yet with a stern gaze and a familiar posture that told Stiles, there was no option but to talk about the issue right then and there.

All at once Stiles could feel his mind doing its best to numb everything, his legs and arms felt weird and tingly like they hadn't gotten proper blood-flow in a while, his brain was like television static, thinking too many things all at once; anger because he had taken so long to confront the issue. Fear because he didn't know if his father was planning to kick him out, not able to stay under the same roof as a murderous freak. Sadness thanks to the same thought and relief to finally, _finally_ get this off both of their shoulders, even if it hurt them. The weight had been slowly crushing them since the occurrence, and there was no way they could just pretend it never happened. There was no way he could play it off so the severity of the situation would lessen, and if he even tried it would probably make the situation even worse than it is.

So, Stiles did what any man could possibly do in this pressuring situation; he blocked the demons in his head (literally) so he could have a calm, untapped conversation with his sire, and walked to the living room just as his father had, sitting next to him when the man patted the cushion next to him.

"I've been... avoiding you, Stiles." Wow. Right to the point even if it hurts. Well, at least he was honest about it an didn't try to use lame, half-assed excuses like Stiles was stupid. He hated that more than anything else. He was a bit autistic, yes. ADD? Oh yeah. Stupid? Oh hell naw. Well, maybe in a few subjects. For the most part he was quite intellectually gifted.

"I've been avoiding you," John repeated, breaking Stiles from his inner circuitous ramblings. The sheriff folded his hands in his lap, looking at his son from the corner of his eye. "And I know I shouldn't have. You're still my son, and I don't blame you for it. Any of it. What shook me enough to avoid you... was that you almost died. And I was helpless again, Stiles. I thought... I thought you were-" John stops and takes in a deep, shuddering breath and Stiles felt a culture shock go up his spine and numb his brain. Holy shit, how long had it been since he'd last seen his dad actually cry? There had been a few close calls, but the last time was years ago, when- 'when mom died.' Stiles realized.

"I thought you were gonna get shot, Stiles. I thought I was going to lose my son," the confession was strong and honest, despite the silent, stubborn tears stealthily escaping John's waterline.

"Dad... I'm-I'm still here. I'm okay," the pathetic attempts at soothing his dad's paint were relatively ineffective, but he did manage to stop the flow of tears. Now he understood why his dad had desperately avoided him like he was the plague; it wasn't Stiles, himself that he was afraid of. It was losing him. He distanced himself from his son because he knew he wouldn't be able to stop him from taking on dangerous missions and defying death practically on a daily basis- but he thought he could soften the blow if he severed their bond to try and defend himself against the agony of actually losing Stiles.

"I'm not going anywhere, dad. Not for a long time. I mean, someone's gotta make sure you eat healthy." he jested lamely and was relieved when his dad gave him a half-smile in return.

"You really are just like your mom, you know," John said and unlocked his hands, raising one and rubbing it over Stiles' growing hair ( _that he really needed to cut, I mean, damn)_ in a way he hadn't since Stiles was a stripling and looked at him in the same soft, comforting way he would when Stiles would wake him up from his nightmares, needing comfort and companionship. "She'd always joke around when she felt someone else was upset. You're so much like her that sometimes I can see her through your eyes. You both would insist on everyone telling you everything that was bothering them, but you'd lock your own problems up so you wouldn't be a burden." John sighed and tilted his head a bit, still smiling at Stiles.

And just like that, Stiles felt it. The connection he had with his dad- their bond that was stronger than anything suddenly snapped back into place like it had never left, alleviating the cold numbness that had seeped into his heart and started to fester into an aching wound he was sure would never heal. Like ointment on a cut, it was gone before he even noticed it had seeped into him. God, this was what he missed the most. His pack betraying him and his trust hurt like hell- especially from Scott, someone he had deemed as his brother early on in life, but his dad- his ultimate hero (aside form batman, of course) leaving him and acting like he was just a stranger who was staying in his house- that one killed him.

"I guess our bond is harder to break than we both thought," Stiles said aloud, not really thinking. Jon gave him a real, honest to god smile- the first one anyone had since the Nogitsune incident-, the corners of his eyes wrinkling and his laugh lines deepening even further, his pale green eyes twinkling and making him look five years younger.

"I guess it is- and I'm so grateful for that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back bitches! Kinda... I hope you liked this chapter that took way longer than it should have!


	8. Protective Fox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurotsuki decides to do some investigating of his own while Stiles sleeps. Wouldn't it be just his luck that he runs into the last group of people he wanted to see?

* * *

"I'm going," the Nogitsune's voice rang loud and clear through the mindscape. "And there's nothing either of you can do to stop me. Someone needs to do field research and you two refuse to take the risk."

"Let us not be hasty," Asmodeus chastises, sitting on a boulder covered in moss. "Think of how Stiles would feel if you just popped from his mind to gallivanting alone, where many a creature could see you and trigger an all out hunt. He would be _furious_. Not to mention he does not even know you can form a physical body yet."

"Thank god he'll never know then, hmm?" Kurotsuki's golden eyes pierced the Sin down to his core... or they would have, if he weren't accustomed to harsh glares by now.

"Whatever you say, then. However, if you do get caught and scolded, it has naught to do with me." Lust stated and waved a hand elegantly as he stood and walked "away".

Kurotsuki merely watched him before turning away and disappearing from the Mindscape. If no one else was willing to get their hands dirty for Stiles, he'll do it. It's not like they were ever clean in the first place, not since his rebirth, so what's a few more lives? Exactly, nothing at all to an ageless spirit who was created for the soul purpose of bringing chaos and anvil chorus to the unfortunate creatures that made up humanity. It would be like splashing a single tiny drop on a splatter painting. Insignificant in the grand scheme, completely overlooked by the larger, messier stains.

 

Right outside of Stiles' house, where the hyper teen and his father slept in the living-room, passed out together in a ball of hug after reconciling their bonds back into place and crying it out, Kurotsuki's body materialized from the surrounding elements required to make a physical form.

He stretched with a sigh and tilted his head to look at the sky, noting the position of the moon and mentally working out a schedule for his plans. Firstly, he'd find the coven and get **that** nuisance out of the way, then if he had time he'd deal with the "Theo" conundrum and whatever trouble the brat brought with him. Afterwards, if he wasn't to tired, he'd figure out what to do with the pack. He smirked and briefly licked his lower briefly lip in thought. Oh, there would be plenty of "food" for the negative fox spirit by the time he was done; he would cause so much chaos that the air would be tainted by his enemies' misery... within Stiles' boundaries, of course.

Now, to clear up any potential misunderstandings (and to remind _himself_ of what aforementioned boundaries he had sworn by); Kurotsuki was not going to barge into the coven with his magic ablaze and fangs bared... even if he really, really wanted to just to see the expressions on the beautified leeches' faces.. He was simply going to observe them and mark their movements, see if he could get close enough to piece together their plans and motives. He would decide what to do from there. To be honest, he was hoping their intentions were less than peaceful; the ancient fox was growing bored of the semi-halcyon state the town had been in since his own "death". There wasn't nearly enough negativity for the Nogitsune to maintain a physical body without his spirit slipping out and needing to recover energy back in the safe cocoon that was Stiles' soul; warmth, acceptance and home, to shade the fox from any harm that would befall him otherwise.

Finding the coven was simple, almost drearily so- tracking was easy when you had the scenting abilities of a fox, amplified by countless centuries of magic and memory. For the most part, they smelt of snow and freeze-dry. The strange, almost odorless smell that made him want to snuff and warm himself, despite the temperature being fairly high. Of course it was, vampires tended to hibernate in winter: their slow-beating hearts unable to pump out enough heat to keep them going so they would "freeze" with their environment and thaw with it. Some of the unfortunate creatures carried the malodorous air of graveyard dirt from when they were presumed fully dead by their mortal companions and buried while semi-alive. Each one carried an undertone of how they died as humans; some smelling of smoke from being burned alive, some of various types of water from drowning, others still had a deeper, more earthy scent to those whom had to claw their way back to the surface- those unfortunate lot were buried "alive". They also, predictably, had an undertone of iron to their breaths, like someone bit a small hole on the inside of their cheek. Of course, the scent of pheromones was strong around them- the more in the room, the more overwhelming the aroma.

While most humans would find it alluring and irresistible, it made Kurotsuki sick, like someone filled their bathtub with granny perfume and just jumped in clothes and all before going into a small, crowded room. Distasteful and gross like an insult to his sensitive nostrils.

Nonetheless, he was undetectable to their own sharp olfactory senses, seeing as he consciously built his temporary body from surrounding elements, he was indiscernible from the area around him. He could tell from the eye colors the order of hierarchy, but ignored the trivial details to listen to their conversation at hand, canine ears growing from his scalp and swerving like queerly shaped satellite dishes to find the best position for eavesdropping.

"-We can't sit here much longer with that beast roaming about; were-folk are bad enough without something like _that_ mixing in!" a [woman ](https://i.imgur.com/lUgMjIP.png)with short platinum hair stated seriously- a noble, the ring of dark orange around her pupil contrasting with the overall grey color of her irises gave away her ranking easily, thanks to Kurotsuki's own sharp ocular sense.

"If we suddenly leave it will only make us look more suspicious- why would we run if we are not guilty? No, we must spread out and make it more difficult to find us while keeping in contact with one another." [A pure-blood male](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/f4/77/3a/f4773a6680b160551ed925f5a6066de4.jpg) with black hair and blue eyes soothes maturely, the telltale ring of royal purple around his pupil giving his royalty away. He must have been the noble girl's sire, as she immediately backed down and looked at the floor in a meek display of submission. The pure-blood gently nodded: the noble girl forgiven and looked carefully around at the other nobles and pure-bloods just as Kurotsuki followed with his own golden gaze.

[A pure-blood with dark skin](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/94/91/30/949130b67bf24c341d458d103f2a42df--cute-pixie-cuts-cute-cuts.jpg)(1), black hair and eyes the color of soil after rain with a slim, toned figure observed everyone silently, listening to both sides of the argument; start a war to defend their right to live, or move and hope they weren't followed. The violet ring around her pupils looked nearly neon against the natural backdrop of her blackish irises, giving her an intimidating stare. Next to her was a nervous looking [noble boy](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/a5/02/89/a50289c8617a41530f2b6c0b4f8c4fcc--tumbler-boys--year-olds.jpg) with the appearance of a preteen adolescent, changed by her no doubt as he leaned towards his progenitor for reassurance, which was granted in the form of the woman reaching over and placing a hand on his shoulder, the result instantaneous when he relaxed in her grip, pale brown hair falling over his eyebrows and tan skin seemingly gaining its original color, though his orange-rimmed pupils on a brown scrim shook nervously as he observed the two pure-bloods glaring at one another on opposite sides of the table. Kurotsuki couldn't fault the boy, he knew how suffocating it was for two beings of equal power to one another- yet so much higher in authority than yourself were ready to fight a bloody battle to the death.

"I am not leaving, Ravenmark- my place is here, as it has been since I helped built this godforsaken city with my bare hands. I will not flee, but I will certainly not murder for the land," [a man](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/0c/c5/49/0cc54944363551a2eeab18b33ea81224--book-images-anime-boys.jpg) with pale blond hair and pale blue eyes- maybe three shades from being white, and clearly chose to stop aging in his early twenties says with a severe expression, his arms crossed stubbornly over his chest to show he wasn't budging on his decision. His skin was pale, not ashy or snow bleach white like the stereotype, but pale enough to know he didn't go out in the sun often. His ears were slightly pointed, showing he had lived at least several thousand years for the mutation to occur, and his slim form did not cower under the much buffer Pureblood's stare.

"And I'm not leaving either, Skywyn. I say we stand and fight; a few mutts are _nothing_ in comparison to the coven if we stand together!" [The opposing pureblood](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/e3/41/1c/e3411c2fdab9cd85f67ff6125e33c327--sexy-jeans-hot-men.jpg) had thick, iron-corded, well-maintained muscle and copper tanned skin with short, dark brown hair in a low fade, the man must have been changed in his forties as there were signs of crow's feel at the corners of his hazel eyes and thick, scruffy facial hair, trimmed and only about a centimeter long from his chin. Well-groomed but definitely someone who had to be the alpha male, it must have been difficult for the more brutish man to contain his fury at being dismissed by a fellow Pureblood- particularly one that he seems to be sweet on, if the semi-discreet glances he'd give the other were anything to go by.

The back and forth argument continued for several minutes, boring the fox thoroughly before the dark skinned royal birth turned her attention to where Kurotsuki was hiding among thick foliage. The Nogitsune remained completely still but snapped his reflective gold eyes shut when the dark skinned woman turned to where he was fast enough to snap an average mortal's neck. He kept them closed and looked out from under his lashes when he no longer felt the piercing, narrowed gaze on his form and saw she had her attention back towards the two warring Purebloods with a less than amused expression.

It was a good thing he didn't have to breathe... or have a heartbeat, otherwise she could have detected him by sound. He was almost impossible to detect at night unless you caught his gaze- dark skin and dark hair worked to his advantage in the dead of night, sneaking is much easier when you blend in with your surroundings.

"Well, what do we do about those damned wolves? It's only a matter of time before the nosy mutts sniff out our trail. If not those beasts than the family of bloody hunters will be knocking down our doors," Ravenmark states, scrubbing a hand along the scruff on his face and making an odd, sand-papery sound that caused Skywyn's eye to twitch before he cleared his throat. Ah, unrequited love... it was such a wonderful source of internal conflict every time. Kurotsuki was sure if he stuck his tongue out he could taste Ravenmark's well hidden internal despair even with a building separating them.

'Well,' Kurotsuki internally mused. 'If the vampires and that pack fight, one will ultimately lose which will toss aside one of my problems. The other side would be significantly weakened as well and easier to pick off... of course, that's if they decide to go the route of war. If they decide to leave, they might decide to come back later, and hunting them down would be such a pain... hmm, I suppose if they leave I'll just have to kill them before they can really go anywhere, but there's no point in having pawns if they can't move.' Kurotsuki debated the pros and cons of letting the coven live before a sizzle on his skin turned his attention, seeing the mark identical to Stiles' on his wrist burning an angry red but not hurting, reminding him of his deal.

'... Right, I suppose that option's out.' he gruffed in his mind, sighing silently through his nose and rolling his eyes.

"But onto a possibly more pressing matter... what about that boy?" someone asked, piquing the fox's attention back to the matter at hand.

"The sheriff's son? What about him? I've been monitoring him as per your instructions and he seems pretty normal, if not a bit lonely." one of the progeny vamps states, nuzzled up secure to their sire's side like an affectionate puppy.

"But he smells off, like there's a great deal of latent power inside him. I'm not even sure if it's all his, but I do know if whatever's inside him gets out, it could spell trouble for everyone involved in this town."

'To late,' Kurotsuki sneered mentally.

Thus, the meeting was adjourned. The verdict: stay in town until if/when the wolves begin closing in on the coven, if any vampires wish to stay once the threat becomes more real, well... it's their life on the line.

Kurotsuki went home with little to show for his effort, but at least he didn't have to maim anyone yet. Stiles would have been alarmed if ten people from his town were found dismembered and reports of a man resembling the Nogitsune taking residence inside of him covered in blood. That would have been quite trying to explain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Camellia: my destiny is in your hands  
> ________________________________________  
> (1): her skin is supposed to be much darker- as in, African american dark, but that's as close as i could get it.


	9. The Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles thinks things are starting to look up, and enjoys his day to the best of his abilities.

* * *

Stiles woke up in a good mood, for the first time in a damn long time. His dad wasn't on the couch with him when he woke up like he was when they fell asleep, but he saw a note on the table explaining that he was going into the station to help get paperwork in order for his officer who shot his own foot, but that he would be home for dinner so they could spend time together.

On that promise, Stiles knew he had to cook for two tonight and checked the fridge, wincing when he saw the severe lack of food from his lethargic, numb days prior. "Welp, time to go grocery shopping." he sighed.

After grabbing his jacket, spraying himself with cologne and lacing up his shoes, shoving his wallet in his pocket. "A shopping we will go," he sang to himself as he jumped in his mother's Jeep, turning on the vehicle. "A shopping we will go, high-ho a merry-oh, a shopping we will go~. I'm gonna end up broke~, I'm gonna end up broke~! Hi-ho a-merry-o I'm gonna spend my grocery cash! That didn't rhyme, but who's got the time~?"

'You seem chipper this morning,' Kurotsuki's tired voice chimed in.

"And you seem tired as dad after double overtime at the station," Stiles countered, turning into another lane to get to the market.

'Sharp observation skills, Stilinski.' the smartass spirit retorted, though there was no real bite in it.

"Thank you, I read comics to keep them that way." 'Hello sarcasm, my old friend. Glad to be with you again,' the human snickered at his own train of not-quite-right lyrical thoughts, Kurotsuki's snort letting him know he heard them as well.

'It's good to see you in a good mood for the first time in a while though, Stiles.' Asmodeus' voice rings kindly.

"Why thank you, favorite spirit taking resident in my soul." Stiles says very blatantly, grinning when he heard Kuro's scoff and Asmodeus snicker.

'So, what are you getting?' Asmodeus asked for curiosity's sake.

"I have a list this time! I'm not getting sidetracked, if that's what your worried about!" Stiles defends, digging into his pocket and holding up a semi-long list of groceries to an unseen audience.

'Whether you have a list or not, you're still going to end up straying to the nerd section," Kurotsuki states bluntly, Stiles could practically see him picking at his claws like a soap opera blond when she knows she can't be proven wrong.

".... Whatever," Stiles huffs and pouts, unable to refute the statement that was, indeed, quite true. "The most important thing is that I get the list items _first_ , whatever happens afterwards is free roam. I'm a teenager! I need variety- to expand my tiny human adolescent world!"

'No need to defend yourself, Stiles. I was just stating a fact,' Kurotsuki says, amused.

"It's not a fact until it's proven!" the hyperactive teen huffs and taps on the steering wheel, turning into the market and turning off his car, putting the keys in his ~~purse~~ bag. "Okay team, help keep me focused," he requested the spirits and slipped on a Bluetooth earpiece his father got him two years ago that he never used. Hey, it would help avoid people looking at him like he lost the few marbles he'd gathered over the years.

"Sure"/"Of course," were the respected responses from his resident psyches, who said what being obvious.

Stiles grabbed a cart and started wheeling it around, looking at his list. "Okay, first is milk," he mused and squinted down the isles before finding them, of course, in the back of the store.

'Skim Milk? Really? Who buys Skim Milk?' Kurotsuki scoffs as if the option was a personal offense when Stiles placed it in the cart.

"My dad who has to watch his cholesterol since he's not getting any younger and his only son is probably going to give him a heart attack with all the supernatural bull that he encounters on a daily basis," Stiles responds with his usual natural smart-assery.

'That's fair. You can't make much with Skim Milk though. It's just water that's lying about being milk,' the fox states as if it's a universal fact everyone knows.

"If I get a gallon of whole milk, will you drop the subject? Cause I don't wanna hear your bitching all the way home," the human states, earning an affirmative from the fox and therefore causing him to place a gallon in the cart. Since he saw the sale tag, he got two.

"Okay, then..." Stiles hums, squinting at the list and picking up a few items from nearby isles before finally getting to the cleaning area.

"So, should I get 'Brawny' or 'Sparkle'?" Stiles asks.

'Sparkle'/'Brawny' both spirits stated at the same time, the human imagining them glaring competitively at each other.

'Sparkle is cheaper, and Stiles doesn't have to clean up anything complicated.' Kurotsuki reasons, the image of him crossing his arms with a sneer ingrained in Stiles' minds' eye.

'But Brawny is sturdier, you can re-use the same sheet repeatedly after rinsing it. Essentially, you'll save more because you bought something quality rather than something cheaper.' Asmodeus states, Stiles could see him with a relaxed form despite giving the fox spirit a condescending stare down his nose, ignoring the height difference and somehow looking down on the Nogitsune despite needing to crane his neck in order to maintain eye contact.

"Quit your quarreling," Stiles sighs tiredly, like a single mother chiding her two children. "I'll get both so I'll have a backup when I run out of the other, got it?"

Kurotsuki grumbled but Asmodeus clearly took it as a partial victory and had a content silence about his presence. Stiles rolled his eyes, somehow the only grownup despite his companions being god knows how old. "Lord help me, it's just like the pack meetings were." he muses, vacantly surprised when the mention of his old group didn't tear a new wound like it had before. 'I guess I'm moving on... that was pretty quick,' he mused to himself.

* * *

The shopping was uneventful but fruitful, and Stiles managed to get home with a car full of groceries without a hitch. No werewolves jumping out in front of his Jeep and causing damages, no lizard-men scratching the ground up chasing him with razor claws, no supernatural occurrences at all. 'Well, except the spirits resident in my head,' he acknowledges with his arms full of bags, knowing he'd have to make a few trips.

After bringing the groceries in and putting everything where they belonged, he started counting his leftover money, mentally cheering when he noticed he had enough to go to the book store and check what they had in since last week.

"Hell yeah, I might be able to get a few books today!" he cheered and fist-pumped the air. He shrugged his jacket back on and headed out the door, deciding to just walk there since he was feeling a bit stir-crazy anyway. Being nowhere but school and home for the past week or so tended to leave one feeling trapped, especially if they were as hyper as he was. The bookshop was only a fifteen minute walk anyway.

"There we go, my oasis of knowledge in a town full of stupidity." Stiles sighed dramatically and wiped an invisible tear from his eye, a grin splitting his face when he noticed the familiar purple tag on the other side of one of the large glass windows, proudly displayed to let everyone know that there had, indeed, been a new shipment of books in this week.

The day had been perfect so far, reconnecting with his dad left him feeling much lighter than before, the house was restocked with necessities and now he was getting new books. He hadn't seen ear or fang of his ex-pack either. He considered that the main positive highlight of his day.

As usual, it didn't take Stiles to find what he wanted from the shelves and was elated when the old shopkeeper, Mr. Cole, gave him a card for frequent visitors that allowed a discount on all books and a free book on each eighth purchase.

"You seem lighter than usual, Stiles," the old man acknowledged, looking at the boy with fading blue eyes over his silver rimmed spectacles. His gnarled hands reminded the teen of knotty branches on a tree like in Snow White, though they moved with a surprising amount of fluidity when scanning the stack of books. He had a hunch from slouching when he read, something Stiles always kept in the back-burner of his mind when he read to avoid the same thing in the future. Nonetheless the old man had more life than most young people these days did and managed to pass on the positivism to anyone who visited his store. You could see the wisdom the elderly man garnered throughout the years, evidence that he had lived his life and learned his lessons well.

"Yeah, I finally managed to cut ties with some pretty... selfish people," Stiles says sheepishly and takes the bag full of books from the old man with a thankful grin.

"Poisonous relationships are best ended before the kill the person they infect," the old man says with aged intelligence that Stiles couldn't refute. "Though sometimes they need to be told that they're tainted in the first place so they can find the cure for themselves."

Stiles, not really knowing what to say, thanks the elderly man and turns, waving in response to the rustier motion the old man gave.

'Today went well,' Stiles stated to soon.

 

"Stiles..."

Stiles turned to the person who called him and widened his eyes, caught between dropping his books in shock and breaking the spines in a harsh grip of outrage.

"Oh, _hell_ no," he and his spirits all stated at once with blunt tones and bland expressions, probably looking related with how identical they looked and sounded if the spirits were in their physical forms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stock Flower: symbol of happy life and contented existence.


	10. The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short... and kinda crappy... but, it's an update. Marry Christmas y'all! And to the atheists out there, Bush did 9/11. (I had to: my uncle said it when he walked through the door and it was decided I'd use it at some point so here it is, you're welcome.)

* * *

There, in all his Alpha wolf swagger, was Peter Hale. It was at this moment that Stiles realized that some otherworldly force must really enjoy knocking him for a loop and a half in the name of entertainment. Oh yeah, Stiles could just picture the smug ruler of the universe sitting on his throne, bored as the dead, looking down on the mortal realm and saw that Stiles was having a good day so he threw a monkey-wrench into the mix. "Oh yeah, there's my favorite victim... let's fuck up his day," the lord stated cheerily and clapped his hands excitedly before throwing the alpha wolf his way. How _lovely_.

"Stiles, what are you doing? Why weren't you at the pack meeting?" Peter crossed his arms and cocked his head to one side curiously. Stiles felt his teeth grind behind his lips and anger shadowing the back of his mind.

"How did you even _know_ about the pack meeting?" Stiles countered with no short level of sass. "Last I checked, you booked your wolfy ass out of Beacon and got the hell out of dodge when shit hit the fan." Holy fuck, Stiles literally did not mean to say that, out loud or otherwise. He didn't even come up with that, now he was wondering where the scathing statement came from. His eyes were stinging a bit too for some reason, and Peter looked freaked out suddenly.

"Stiles... what's wrong with your eyes?" was that concern in Peter's voice? Shocker, Stiles knew that just about everyone in the Hale family hated his guts. Peter, in particular, never cared about anyone or anything except power. Maybe his daughter, but no one's seen hide nor hair of the were-coyote for weeks.

"What's wrong with your common sense? Most people don't flee an area and then return. Are there not enough places in America for you to taint with your presence?" seriously, who was moving Stiles' mouth because they were going to get his sassier-than-thou ass chewed up like a rubber bone. He honestly felt like most of the anger he was experiencing wasn't his own- and it definitely wasn't Asmodeus or Kurotsuki's. Truthfully, Stiles unfortunately got along better with Peter than almost anyone else in the hale family. Derek always looked three seconds from ripping his intestines out and using them as streamers.

"You know what? I don't have time to deal with you, your family drama **or** the pack's inability to research anything properly- because I'm sick of picking up your mental slacks. Kindly fuck off and tell them to stop bothering me, while your at it." Stiles clicked his tongue, turned on his heel and walked away with a clear chip on his shoulder. The silence and inactivity from Peter showed that he was to stunned to do or say anything from the very un-Stiles outburst.

Stiles noticed as he turned from the wolf that his reflection in the window had peculiar [eyes](http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AZJqP6-EUTk/UED9eLVJYsI/AAAAAAAAAYc/CQdHK8EUQ7Q/s1600/OQAAAIG9oQp1SstTl6hH_LcbopFfCLLdM0zvZkRMa_i2bGzv3myx5AgT1jvv0eF9cjbPROmeC41izswJaaLiuXVAjlAAm1T1UAP3URzFCfe9vH71znqozLV0jLut.jpg). By the time Peter shook off his stunned mindset, Stiles was already at home with his windows and doors locked securely. The human already knew the werewolf wasn't stupid enough to break into the sheriff's home, especially since Stiles made it clear he wasn't in the pack's corner anyway.

 

"Alright, who did that?" Stiles, now in the safety of his room with privacy from judging or prying eyes, put his hands on his hips like the two spirits he'd become well-acquainted with were in front of him. As if his stance of sass and authority has summoned them, Kurotsuki stood against the wall, one leg propped up and his arms crossed with Asmodeus sat elegantly on the edge of the bed with his legs crossed. The spirits glanced at each other, a silent dare passing through the gaze to see who would bare the news to their human host.

"Well," Asmodeus rose to the challenge, standing in one smooth movement that never failed to make Stiles a bit dizzy from how unnaturally fluid every little movement was. "Kurotsuki gave you a seal on top of the original, which is supposed to suppress Wrath and I from being able to do anything without your permission."

"But? There's a but isn't there, there always is and I can feel this one in my nerves." Stiles goaded, crossing his arms after rubbing his forehead briefly.

"Well, it would have kept up locked up... but you unraveled the seal when you summoned me from the depths of your soul. Now Wrath just tends to... slip through the cracks in moments of extreme negative emotion." Asmodeus gave a reassuring grin... or it would be reassuring if Stiles didn't know the Sin well enough to spot a fake from him a mile away. He gave credit to being with Azzy for a good chunk of his life subconsciously.

"... So what I think I understand is whenever I get mad, Wrath's going to pop up." Stiles guessed bluntly, earning a tilt of the head and a 'what-do-you-think-I-just-said?' smile from the embodiment of lust.

"... I'm gonna try to talk to him," Stiles states after falling tiredly into the chair by his desk.

"I'd advise you against it, if I didn't know you'll do it anyway." Kurotsuki states and sits native-style on the floor, folding his legs like a pretzel.

"You know me so well!" Stiles faux swooned in his seat, a hand to his forehead like a dramatic actor in a play. "But since the runes didn't work last time, can you teach me some stronger ones, Azzy?" the human turned towards he present sin.

"Well, I suppose if you plan to do this I cannot allow you to go in blind," the platinum blond mused with a soft sigh and pondered a response before coming to a conclusion. "I suppose so, do you have a piece of paper and a writing utensil?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Petunia: resentment, anger.


	11. Wrath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finally takes a huge step and summons Wrath to speak with him. If he's even a quarter as patient as Asmodeus, than Stiles has nothing to worry about. If he's not, well... Stiles can pray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this chapter to short? It feels short to me, even if it took me awhile to write.

 

* * *

Stiles was ready... kinda. Maybe- he hoped so, at least. Asmodeus had patiently taught him the correct runes to keep Wrath contained over the next hour until he could draw them easily and repeat the incantation in his sleep... which he hoped he'd never do because damn, that's dangerous. Afterwards the Sin of Lust had drawn the summoning circle himself, just to make sure nothing was missed, and left the smaller circles for the containment runes untouched for Stiles when he summoned the other sin. Kurotsuki had left at the beginning, knowing there was nothing to help with and telling Stiles to call for him if things went pear-shaped. The soft thrum of his energy in the back of his mind, a sign he was there but distant enough that he knew Asmodeus wasn't listening in... as opposed to Kuro's energy, that was _right freaking there_ like he was standing next to his human. At least Stiles could tell the fox wasn't eavesdropping... somehow.

Now here Stiles was, scribbling ancient glyphs from a language lost to the world into his floor with a sandwich sitting innocently on a plate next to him. Why? Because he got hungry halfway through and made himself one. No one was allowed to judge his slight obsession with PB&J sandwiches... that, and he forgot to get ham at the store. Oh well, any sandwich is a good sandwich, especially when they were cut vertically- it just made them taste better.(1)

"I'm probably going to regret this, but when has that ever stopped me?" he wondered aloud with a snicker and finished the last rune, lighting the dark crimson candle, sitting like he was meditating. He released a soft sigh and loosened his physical body along with his mind, feeling the mark on his wrist itch a bit. He murmured the incantations under his breath, forcing himself to not look when he felt the air grow heavier, like something was vacuuming the oxygen from the room. He didn't open his eyes when the lights flickered, or when the ground creaked under the weight of a new presence in the room. He only looked when he felt the candle he was sitting in front of relight itself, noting the flame had gone from the usual orange to a deep, maroon red. Then he looked at the new person taking residence in both his mind and body.

The man looked was tall with bronze skin, his hair was in a quiff, like he'd been running his fingers through it and a shade of copper-red, the shape of his eyes were somewhat slanted- not quite like one with an Asian decent, but like he glared so often the expression stuck to his handsome features with somehow familiar (though he doesn't know where or when) sunburst [eyes](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/42/91/c1/4291c101751dc15f44bed22282f12aa8.jpg). He had a thick five-o'clock shadow shading his chin and a large portion of his cheeks. In other words; broad-shouldered, intimating, and threatening Stiles' already befuddled sexuality. Why were all the sins hot!? If Gluttony ended up being attractive, Stiles would retain the right to quit in life.

"I'm Iram, the Sin of Wrath." he said in a deep, slightly gruff voice. "Nice to see you, Stiles."

Stiles, without thinking, held up half of his sandwich to the Sin. "'Sup dude, wanna sandwich?" he offered, feeling a tingle of amusement somewhere in his mind, not belonging to himself or the two resting spirits, figuring it must be from Iram... if there wasn't another one hiding inside him somehow. At this point he wouldn't be surprised.

The corner of Iram's mouth twitched upward briefly, signalling it was him who found amusement from the human's food offering and, surprisingly, accepting it with a nod of thanks. He sat with one leg flat on the floor and the other bent, his muscular arm resting on his knee. "Did you summon me here for lunch, or did you have something to say?" the Sin cut straight to the point, though there was no irritation to be found in his voice.

"Earlier at the store I was angry, but most of it wasn't even mine. Was it you?" Stiles shot back, just as quick to the main subject.

"It was," Iram stated bluntly with neither pride, nor guilt. "You were to shocked to react accordingly and he had no right to question you when his own methods are less than acceptable. The anger _was_ yours, I simply... emphasized it to get it off of your chest. You did feel better afterwards, didn't you?" He did, actually. Stiles felt like one of the many weights tied to his fragile heart had been cut loose, making it a bit easier to continue on in life without the bitter, choking presence of anger he had previously swallowed back.

"Well, yeah, but I mean... why not just let me walk away like I was originally going to?" Stiles inquired and bit into his sandwich.

"You can only bottle your emotions so much before they hurt you somehow, Stiles. Some people physically harm themselves so the pain of their flesh can ground the from the situation and remind themselves that their still there, which this time wrongfully refers to as 'suicidal', when the case is just to make sure they're real. Others become extremely aggressive or depressed to where they just can't take it anymore and when they decide they just can't handle it anymore, the rest of the world labels them as 'weak' or 'cowardly'. I merely helped you release your pent-up aggression in a healthier way before you got to that point," Iram says and finishes his food before Stiles even realized he had been eating.

"You make it sound like you care," Stiles said in a joking tone to cover the vulnerability he felt.

"That's because I do, Stiles. Asmodeus, the Nogitsune and myself all care for you in one way or another. If we hadn't we would have left you long ago," Iram looked at the human with one fiery eye, the other closed in a relaxed manner. "You are more important than you think... you just don't know it, yet."

"... So, you represent Wrath but why are you being nice to me?" Stiles blurted, unable to handle the serious atmosphere. Thankfully, Iram granted him the relief of a change in subject and leaned back.

"People can be angry and still care for others, they simply have more difficulty expressing it... which, ironically, frustrates them more so they get even angrier. I tend to focus my rage rather than just bursting it whenever... it's much more **dangerous** that way." The word 'dangerous' was punctuated with Iram's eye glowing like fire from a stocked hearth.

"... That was creepy but awesome," Stiles stated with a serious look, earning a deep chuckle from Iram.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heather (Lavender)- Admiration, Solitude  
> ___________________________________  
> 1) so this scene wasn't originally in the story, but I'm eating a sandwich while writing this and thought to myself 'Stiles would totally offer a demon his sandwich if he summoned him during lunch.' Then I just couldn't help myself. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡ -)


	12. First Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first movement from a common enemy occurs. The pack is confused and the spirits are shaken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been getting questions via friends who ask me in person about the sins' personalities. If anyone wants I'll post a separate chapter or two explaining them and their intentions. So if you guys have any questions, just leave them in the comments and I promise I'll get to them in the bonus character chapter.
> 
> Ps: I love hearing any theories or questions you guys have, it flatters me that you guys think so deeply on my story! Don't ever hesitate to leave a comment/question/theory!

* * *

Overall, Iram turned out to be much calmer than Stiles would expect from someone who embodies rage. He was calm the whole time and listened patiently to whatever Stiles rambled on about, answering his questions with the patience of an older brother returning from college to his much younger sibling.

"Who's the most impatient Sin?" Stiles asked. ("Probably Gluttony, actually. She gets very angry when something interrupts her eating... which is all the time," came the answer.) "Who's the oldest", "Who's the strongest", "Are you still mad Asmodeus stole your girlfriend", "do you have your own physical form like Kuro and Azzy" were just the first half, the rest of it mindless interrogations on the sin's likes and dislikes, all of which were thankfully answered with surprising leniency. ("Our eldest sibling, Tristitia", "that depends on the situation," "I'm not particularly upset, but I am irritated he does it whenever he can to prove their disloyalty", and "If I didn't have a physical form I wouldn't be here now".)

"I think it's time for you to go to bed, Stiles," Iram states when Stiles was cut off from asking another question by a loud, wide yawn that felt like it could split the sides of his lips. The human begrudgingly nodded with a slight pout and erased the connection rune with his sleeve, watching the Sin disappear with it and feeling a warmth in the back of his mind when he was completely gone, conveniently with his cult-worthy items and pentagram. So, with the gateway closed and his curfew at hand, Stiles snuggled up in bed with his mind a bit more at ease now that he had (hopefully) earned the Sin of Wrath's loyalty.

 

The next morning while eating breakfast and watching TV with his dad, the news station was reporting a crash that had happened last night during the storm. The crash was horrible and the driver of the Semi came out with minor injuries; a fractured arm, two bruised ribs and a few scrapes while the other person died immediately upon contact thanks to the Semi-driver speeding through the streets to make his delivery schedule.

"If only people understood that speeding laws exist for a reason, I was home late thanks to that crash." John Stilinski shook his head slowly with his mug of black coffee to his lips, not quite drinking it. "But with all the corruption of police officers these days, I don't blame them for their lack in faith towards the system. If we can't protect the people against our own, what's the point in being officers in the first place? I'll never understand a corrupted official's mindset, Stiles. And I don't want to."

Stiles hummed in agreement and pushed a forkful of eggs past his lips, only to choke when he saw a picture of the manslaughter victim: his teacher, Mr. Wells. Familiar pinkish eyes stared at the camera with a soft smile, his hair a bit tousled with a formal jacket over his shoulders along with a black, long sleeved V-neck and a cat pendant his daughter gave him when she was six. Stiles recognized the picture as his teacher ID card, the same one that was framed on the wall along the counseling and attendance offices.

His dad jerked when his son accidentally inhaled his eggs, his hot coffee spilling in his lap with a slightly shrill curse and a hiss of pain. "Stiles, what's wrong?" he asked, noticing his son's distressed gaze on the television, turning his head and immediately softening when he noticed his son's favorite teacher displayed on the screen with the news ribbon stating "School Teacher killed in collision with Semi" trailing innocently along the bottom of the news.

"Oh Stiles, son, I'm so sorry..." John hadn't even known who the man from the wreck was, it was so bad that he thought the man slouched over his steering wheel after bashing his head hard against the driving tool was a natural redhead. John didn't even wake up his son to let him know he was home, just sat on the bed with his head buried in his hands and fretting over the grief of the poor man's family and one of his officers having to make the house call. He exhaled through his hands and remembered the medic asking him to help carry the dead body to the stretcher since they were short on men and somehow sheriff Stilinski hadn't noticed it was one of the closest adults in his son's life. The only solace the tired father could find was that the man had died quickly.

"It makes sense now," Stiles murmured while his father furrowed his brows, not hearing what the boy said. The smell he had scented from Mr. Wells those last few days; smoke, iron and unmistakable reek of oil- he had smelled the crash. He had scented how his teacher would die. 'Oh my god, that's... really creepy.' the human acknowledged. A part of him was a bit relieved, as awful as it sounded. He was happy Mr. Wells wouldn't have to suffer the agony of cancer any longer. Mr. Wells; who always said good things at parent-teacher meetings, who had the patience of a practiced saint and who understood Stiles better than most adults, wouldn't let other students bully each other as opposed to the ones who would stay off to the side and out of the fire of conflicts since it "wasn't their problem". Was Stiles upset his favorite teacher was dead? Oh yes, he was absolutely devastated- a kind man like Mr. Wells was oftentimes overshadowed by the assholes of the world and overlooked, so getting to know him was a rarefied wonder that restored Stiles' faith in humanity just slightly whenever he saw the teacher.

"Do you want to stay home?" John offered and laid his hand on Stiles' slumped shoulder, squeezing briefly in support, his eyes unjudging with paternal affection. God, Stiles was so thankful to whatever force operating the universe that he had his dad in this moment, because he was barely keeping himself together. Stiles shook his head lightly, his gaze downcast and his appetite lost. As weird as it sounds, Stiles needed to go to school. Mr. Wells was the one teacher who would encourage him to do his best and show everyone he was capable of anything he set his mind to. "You'll show them all one day, Stiles," Mr. Wells had said after taking Stiles from the detention room to help him grade papers instead with a smile. "One day you'll show them what you can really do in the world."

And so, after crying on his dad's shoulder, thankful he got up half an hour before school that morning via Kurotsuki (who somehow probably foresaw the situation coming), Stiles took a shower, dried off, dressed and headed out to his car with a soft 'bye' from his father, who pulled him into one last strengthening hug that Stiles clung to for a minute longer than necessary before getting in his beloved Jeep and driving off, waving to his dad in the process.

"Kurotsuki, did you do it? I just wanna know," Stiles asked quietly into the air while focusing on the rainy road.

'I didn't. He was just meant to die that way, but it's better than a death by disease,' the fox answered in all honesty.

"Okay... I don't think I'd be mad if you did, to be honest." Stiles remarked.

He pulled into the parking lot, stepping out of his car and stretching when he saw a long scaly tail slither off into the bushes, making a shudder slide down his spine. 'Please be a snake and not a Kanima... I mean, I hate both but a snake won't do as much damage to my car.' he sniffed the air, hoping he could somehow tell like how he could scent death. It didn't smell particularly reptilian... It smelled more like honey.

Before Stiles could investigate, the bell rang, alerting him to get his ass to class or face the consequences. He cast one last glance of suspicion over his shoulder before jogging inside, seemingly ignoring the sensation of eyes on his back the whole time.

 

'I should get my hair cut,' Stiles mused, knowing the spirits were listening. 'I don't like my hair reaching past my jaw.' he explained and fiddled with a strand of slightly longer, fluffy brown hair that brushed the nape of his neck. He usually went for the shaved look- less hair problems that way.

'I think you look nice with longer hair,' Asmodeus stated in a kind but genuine tone.

'Well longer hair is a pain in the ass. Take it from me, Stiles, you don't want to deal with long hair.' the fox disagrees... as usual.

'It doesn't matter what you two think: it's Stiles' choice,' Iram grumbled.

'I did not say it was not. I was merely saying that I think he would look wonderful no matter what style he chooses,' Asmodeus defends.

'The hell you were-!'

"Mr. Stilinski, is my class bothering you?" Mr. Harris demanded, twice as aggressive since Kurotsuki roasted him that one time in class.

'He needs to get a life and stop shoving himself in others. How did someone this unprofessional get hired?' Stiles mentally agreed with the fox with a mutter of 'preach it' before looking at Mr. Harris in blatant boredom.

"Well, since you asked, it is incorrect. Columbus didn't discover America- the Natives did by crossing the ice-bridge," Stiles stated with his chin cupped in his hand, watching Mr. Harris' face turn red in embarrassed anger before turning back to the board with a grumble, proceeding to teach twice as fast. Stiles could feel the soft sensation of someone patting his shoulder in congratulations, also somehow making out the shape and feel to be Asmodeus', the theory backed by the elated yet calm 'congratulations, Stiles' from the proud Sin.

A loud crash and a scream was heard from the hallway, sending a chill down every nerve ending in the room. A glance over told Stiles everything, Lydia was covering her mouth with her hand, muffling what would have been a Banshee's scream. Just that moment a rancid smell hit Stiles' nostrils like his Jeep; the smell of cold sweat, rancid breath, the smell of claws and ripped skin, blood splattering on floors waxed with lemon-scented floor cleaner.

'Oh hells,' He heard Asmodeus whisper quietly and could see the blood escaping his already fair cheeks. 'They were not supposed to make a move for weeks.'

'Dammit!'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monkshood: beware, a deadly foe is near.


	13. Pride or Foe?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iram investigates the murder scene and comes to a dark conclusion, meanwhile Asmodeus tries to comfort a shaken Stiles while Kurotsuki is off keeping an eye on the pack so they won't get in the way.
> 
> All in all, there's a whole lot going on in this chapter and it switches areas quickly.

* * *

Stiles locked himself in the boy's bathroom, slipping in when everyone was distracted by the flow of students blocking the hallway to escape. He sat on the ground with his head against the door and felt more shaken than he had since the Supernatural mayhem began and Scott was bitten. He didn't know why he was being so effected now, but he was and he had no idea how to calm himself. Thankfully he knew he didn't have to when Asmodeus' soft hands were placed on his shoulders, a glance up showed concerned heliotrope eyes stared into his own, the Sin's soft lips pursed into a gentle, concerned frown.

"Stiles, you will be alright. I am here with you," the beautiful man promised and cradled Stiles close like a kid, sturdy despite his fragile looking frame and not budging even when Stiles' hands clutched tightly at his back for support. He couldn't help but feel like he'd experienced this before.

 ----------------------

Iram materialized just outside the stall his host was hiding in and furrowed his brows. 'Asmodeus, Keep watch over Stiles. The fox left this morning to do field-watch and I'm going to check the crimescene and see what info I can gather,' the Sin of Rage instructed his brother telepathically despite knowing he'd do so regardless, turning on his heel and trudging into the now empty hallways and towards the area the slaughter had occurred.

He watched as the officers, weak-willed humans exposed to his energy dropped down, unconscious, the cameras already glitching from the smallest wave of true demonic energy. He picked one that had been examining the body up by the back of his jacket and nonchalantly tossed him over his shoulder, as if he were a bottle or a ball of paper, a dull thump from the unconscious man hitting the floor sounded, easily being toned out when the embodiment of Wrath knelt beside the cadaver.

"Oh yeah, this is just like her." Iram sighed deeply and sneered in distaste. "Leave it to Pride to overdo it. Why doesn't she just introduce herself like a normal, courteous Sin?"

(So this part is pretty detailed in the gore department, so if you wanna skip I'll let you know when it's done.)

He tilted the corpse's head, examining the mangled remains of its neck and spine and pursed his lips. "Then again, this is pretty gruesome, even for her." he looked down at the ribcage and noted several organs missing; notably the heart, liver and right lung. The caging of bones themselves were split open like a flower, what should be inside wasn't and Iram had to give the humans their props for keeping their lunch, most mortals wouldn't be able to handle the macabre scene without vomiting once.

The victim had been a girl, though you couldn't tell in any way other than bone structure. Cut in half by claws, if the three deep horizontal scratches along the remains of the upper spine said anything. Iram set his jaw and walked over to the lower body, still connected by the intestines alone and furrowed his brow in confusion when he saw the kneecaps popped off and laid neatly right next to their respective leg.

This part was confusing; granted, if Gluttony was with Pride than she may have eaten the organs, but Gluttony had little taste for _raw_ human and preferred them cooked. In addition, she wasn't particularly violent by nature and would sooner just go off and buy a steak than get her hands dirty. Pride, herself, was a perfectionist, so she wouldn't leave it quite this messy. Everything would be "perfect" in a way: ribs would be broken out and lined neatly in rows or the body would be intact and posing like a Hannibal Lector copycat. She'd never leave something this tumultuous, it would have to be an organized mess. If she took one organ, she'd definitely take its counterpart just to be even.

Maybe it had something to do with that "snake" Stiles had seen in the bushes before going to class. "It could be a Lamia," Iram admitted to himself and cupped his chin with a bloody hand in thought, ignoring the cruor now painted on his face from his bloodied fingers. "Or a Naga, assuming it actually is related to the reptilian creature from before." But Nagas weren't particularly violent and Lamia rarely went to populated areas. An actual reptilian, perhaps? Maybe he had been with Stiles to long; now he was coming up with alien theories.

He searched the corpse a bit more, finding a few marks he hadn't before since he wasn't specifically looking for them. To be more specific; four-fingered claw marks gauged into the bones, bite-marks belonging to a creature with a mouthful of sharp fangs. Definitely not his sibling then, not Lamia nor Naga either. That left only the outrageous reptilian theory. Or, debatably worse...

"Newborns," Iram spat with now low level acidity. Newborns was a term for either Corruption-weres (humans turned were-creatures due to experimenting with magics they had no business with) or newborn vampires, who are first born with fangs replacing every tooth until hey "matured" and lost most of them- it made it easier to chew the meat they needed until their bodies adjusted to the new "Only need blood to survive" bodies. Newborns of any creature were a lot like rebellious teenage humans: they only listened to their creatures when put in their place, dangerous when not supervised and a total _disaster_ all around if you didn't help them care for themselves so they didn't ruin their own persons.

"Yup. Definitely newborns," Iram acknowledged and felt familiar anger boil in his blood, causing his face to blank itself and his claws to cut crescents in his palms, his voice lowering to an animalistic growl: "those sons of _bitches_."

\--------------------------

Kurotsuki was following one of the Purebloods; the woman with dark skin and her noble progeny. To make himself more difficult to spot, he was in his shadow form and attached to their own silhouettes. The downside was he couldn't do much else aside from observe and take notes until he solidified himself, which would take to much time in an ambush. This form was also much easier to contain than the others, which was also a major disadvantage.

"Lady Adalicia," the mousy noble finally called humbly to the dark-skinned woman.

"Yes, Jess?" Adalicia grants, eyes forward as if she weren't even addressing him, her stride proud without any dangerous cockiness.

"What do we do? About the threat with the wolves, hunters and... _them_?" the boy shivered and looked two seconds from diving into his creator's side for protection.

"We stay until we have reason not to, every incident so far has blown over and this will not be any different." she states, not breaking her strut even once. The boy seemed at ease now that he had his master's firm choice to cling to, it seemed not knowing was putting him on edge rather than the actual choice she'd make.

"Yes, m'lady." he says loyally and hides his happy grin in the collar of his jacket when she squeezed his shoulder in praise for his faith.

'This is a waste of time,' Kurotsuki internally cursed. Maybe if he had followed a different vampire he would have gotten his answers, but this pair either didn't know or care about the threat at hand. Though Kuro faintly wondered who "he" was, he had a feeling they weren't going to talk about it. So, he detached himself from their shadows and slithered behind an ally where darkness was aplenty, then reformed himself. Another downside to his shadow form, attaching and detaching from anothers' shadow took a great deal of energy, especially when you aren't possessing them. A waste of time _and_ energy.

'I'd rather just kill them and be done with it, but since I made that oath I can't.' he sighed and glanced down at his wrist, looking at the runic symbols etched along the copper skin. 'What a pain in the ass... this might end up messier than I forethought.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Begonia: beware


	14. Important Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pride finally appears, much to her siblings' chagrin, and plans to tell Stiles a few secrets best left dead and buried.

* * *

Stiles choked in gulps of air on Asmodeus' gentle prompting, tears blurring his vision from crying. He didn't understand why this death was effecting him so much now when he'd been unfazed actually seeing the corpses of other victims of supernatural brutality. He didn't even see the person that was killed, he hadn't seen the scene of the crime, so why was he having an anxiety attack now?

"That does not matter," he heard Asmodeus soothe and felt an elegant hand card through his hair gently. "All that matters is that you are here with me, and so long as I live I will keep you safe." the beautiful man promises. Even through the veil of saltwater, he could make out beautiful violet/magenta eyes looking at him in concern and patience, the familiar gaze helping to settle the teen.

Finally, after catching his breath and calming down a bit, he slumped against Asmodeus' chest and was vaguely surprised that he didn't feel a binder or something around his chest(1), just a lithe figure. "I'm scared, Azzy," he confesses quietly and feels even more comforted when the Sin tightened his hold on the Vessel. "I'm scared and I don't know why... for some reason that scares me even more." Asmodeus said nothing, but gave comfort in wrapping the fragile teen tightly in his thin arms.

\-------------------------

The last thing Stiles was expecting after school (which he probably should have) was to get kidnapped and tossed in a limousine. The next thing he expected least was to be taken to one of the few big corporation buildings that could buy the town six times over. He was "escorted" (lead out by several guards circling him like vultures so he went where they wanted him to go) to the top floor via elevator, which Stiles used to look at his captures. The guards looked like every stereotype: tall, muscular, wearing dark blue ironed suits with sunglasses and an earpiece. One of them looked like Bubbles from Lilo and Stitch.

The elevator opened, leading directly to the outside of an office with the stereotypical secretary typing away at an expensive looking computer.

The secretary with long, manicured nails and curling red hair looked up from her keyboard, her eyelids pasted in pale green sparkly eye-shadow to make her dark green eyes pop, cherry-red lipstick coated lips immediately curled into a fake but welcoming smile and her lashes caked in mascara that Stiles thought must make them heavy. "Hello, may I help you?" She asked in a "happy to help" tone that was as false as her face.

'Makeup is supposed to enhance your beauty, honey, not cover it up.' Stiles thought in a sassy beautician voice. She was pretty, but he was sure she'd be much prettier if she had a more minimalistic touch... or at least if her eye-shadow matched what she was wearing and her contour didn't make her look mildly anorexic.

"We brought the boy the boss asked for," one of the beefy guards (who was probably ironically named "Tiny" if it were a movie) spoke in a deep voice, his hands folded professionally in front of him. The woman suddenly flushed enough that you could see the pink in her cheeks beneath layers of foundation, and stood up just to talk on the phone, twirling a piece of rusty hair with an expression belonging to a schoolgirl talking with her crush, straightening her navy-blue pencil-skirt and white blouse before dialing a number, bouncing on her black stiletto heels. Stiles almost snorted when he noticed one of the guards roll his eyes behind his tinted glasses.

"Hello, Ms. Fir? The boy you sent for is here. Yes... yes... I'll escort him in myself!... No, no: I insist!" she said a quick goodbye and squealed quietly to herself, fluffing up her hair and doing a quick check in her compact mirror before clearing her throat and walking up to Stiles, as if she could save any professionalism she could present. To bad Stiles saw the whole thing.

She took a quick, uneasy breath and then walked to the solid oak door like it held the key to her happiness.

"Uh... are you okay?" Stiles asked when she rested her hand on the polished brass doorknob, making the redhead jump.

"What- yes! Uhm, right this way, sir." she directed and opened the door to a person sitting on a comfy leather chair behind a desk, slightly bent over as they signed papers, their body a shadow thanks to the windows making up most of the back wall.

"You may leave us, Genevieve," a womanly voice directs the woman who nods and practically skips off, closing the door behind her and giving Stiles a distinctly trapped feeling.

The woman stands up, hands behind her back and spine straight as she walked towards the boy. Looking at her now she was quite pretty and stereotypically professional, a pencil skirt with dark gray nylons, black cone heels, a dark-blue cardigan over a black dress shirt with a dark blue tie, her glossy black hair was up in a tight, professional bun with two strands curling and framing her face, her bangs a straight line brushing the middle of her forehead. Her dark brown eyes were framed in thick lashes with winged eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man and her lips had a layer of glossy crimson red on them.

"Hello, Stiles. I've been meaning to meet you for quite a while. My brothers are quite fond of you, for whatever reason. A pleasure to make your acquaintance," the woman said and brought one hand out from hiding, her nails meticulously cared for with a coat of shiny clear polish and her cuticles in pristine condition. It wasn't quite like Asmodeus though, Stiles realized. Asmodeus had a "natural" perfection about him, this woman's was more like... she couldn't accept anything less. Stiles realized he had been staring for a while and shook the woman's hand slowly with a forced grin.

"Nice to meet you, too. You look more official than the others," he says honestly and the woman seems to puff up just a bit at the compliment.

"Thank you, I take pride in my appearance," she says and turns on her heel, walks to her desk and sits at her chair before gesturing to the seat in front of her. "Please, take a seat Mr. Stilinski."

"Just Stiles please, Mr. Stilinski is literally my dad." Stiles stated and sat down awkwardly, noting the chair was more comfortable than it looked. He glanced around the office and saw the usual details every office had in movies; paintings in antique framing, a statue or two on either side of the room, a black leather couch along the left side of the room where a large TV was posted on the opposite wall, a few potted plants scattered. On the woman's desk was a gold-looking name plaque, a desk lamp, one of those pens attached to the pen holder by a gold chain, one of those green fabric things that kept paperwork still and a few pictures in frames off to the opposite side of the green paper mat. One of her in a white, intricate wedding dress with a tiara of white roses and a sheer veil folded back, a bouquet of white flowers held in her hands and lips painted a soft pink with an ordinary looking man in a tuxedo smiling so widely it was amazing his lips didn't split. Another picture was of a large golden lab who's tongue was lolling out, giving a doggish grin with wide puppy eyes at the camera. The third was a picture of the man from before in another tuxedo and herself in a prom dress holding hands and looking at the camera with matching, official smiles.

"My husband," Ms. Fir explains and picks up the wedding picture gently. "He past away several months ago... I took over the company then," she sighs and sets it back down before looking back at the boy seated across from her.

"But that's not why were here... then again, you're probably wondering what you _are_ here for." she said with a secretive smile that scared the hell out of Stiles, not that he'd ever admit it. He tried to call to Asmodeus and Iram, only to find the connection silent. The last time it happened was...

"Are you one of the sins?"

"Very astute observation, Świetomierz," she smiled, a quick flash of sapphiric blue dancing in her [irises](https://i.pinimg.com/236x/b2/28/45/b2284537d6c9b6600e83a3a2d058f7fc--pretty-eyes-beautiful-eyes.jpg). "I am Pride- though my real name is Abhimanini."

Stiles stared blankly for a solid two seconds and then jolted backwards, hands clinging to the arms of the chair and vaguely surprised that he didn't break the back of his comfy seat. "Pride-Abudabi-what-now pretty lady say?" it came out more confused that slightly outraged as he hoped, and his inner grammar Nazi was pissed that he butchered the English language in such a disgraceful manner while Pride merely arched a brow at him in response, amusement clear on her features.

"Let's try this again since it's clearly going to take a while to comprehend my presence; nice to meet you, Stiles. I am the Sin of Pride: Abhimanini," she says and smiles at him secretively through the gaps in her fingers. "And I called you here because I know my softer siblings haven't told you everything about the reason why they're with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amaryllis: Pride  
> ____________________  
> 1) Stiles means he thought Asmodeus was trans or something since he's so beautiful.


	15. The Origins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abhimanini explains a bit on what is is to be a Sin and what it truly means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments give me inspiration~ <3

"Before we begin though, would you like some tea? Coffee? Maybe a snack?" The hostess offered. "Personally, I'm going to order my usual Caramel Machiotto Latte with chocolate drizzle and vanilla shavings. Of course, sometimes tea is better for discussions like this to soothe the nerves and we have all kinds here. We have a ton of snacks if your hungry, what would you like?" the gracious Sin offers and cradles the phone to her ear with her fingers poised to dial a number.

"I... no, no thanks. I mean, just a cup of ice would be awesome," Stiles states and massages his aching head, feeling his sins scratching at whatever was cutting them off from their vessel. It didn't hurt, but it itched. "Why did you seal off Azzy and Ire(1)?" Stiles just didn't feel as safe without them with him.

"Well, knowing them and how attached they are to you, they'd drag you out before you heard something... that might hurt you," she says and then changes her vocal tone to more professionally polite when the person on the other end answered, ordering her drink, Stiles' ice and a basket of pastries. She hung up and looked at him seriously, "Wrath, especially, would probably destroy my office in a fit of rare, uncontrollable rage and spread my industrial secrets out online."

Stiles couldn't even say anything because he knew deep down that it was true, and shifted in his seat nervously.

"Now, how about we have a bit of a... more informative chat on us Sins, hmm?" Pride wagered and crosses her legs, her hands folded on top of her knee. "I'll even tell you our origins, just so you're a bit more... relaxed for our more intense discussion."

"I mean... sure?" Stiles asked, more to keep the prideful woman happy. She was polite so far, but Stiles had a feeling she could switch quickly if she was prompted to.

"Wonderful! Not many people are willing to listen to a demon's side of the story thanks to man's habit of stereotyping," she sighed at the last bit but clapped her hands once to gain attention back to the matter at hand. "Now... let's start at the beginning, hmm?"

"We, the Sins, are not supposed to be something feared or hated. As a matter of fact, we are the most common instincts of any creature.

Lust is a sin, yet how do you think mankind has reproduced all these years- even told to multiply and prosper by God himself? Lust is a form of desire, and humans work towards what they desire. Imagine how inadequate it would be if you didn't desire your life partner: I for one wouldn't wish such a thing on anyone.

Wrath is frowned upon and you must turn the other cheek, yet it is a form of self-preservation. Wrath is something most people feel towards another after being wronged- if someone murdered your best friend, wouldn't you want to pay back the favor?  You should only have to take so much abuse before you snap, and you shouldn't be blamed for it when you were pushed passed your breaking point.

Gluttony is disgusting -don't get me wrong, I love my sister dearly but some of the things she eats is just mortifying-, yet it exists for its own reason- namely so you won't starve if something sudden happens. Bears, for instance, or extremely gluttonous before winter to survive.

Sloth isn't a bad thing either- humans are the type of creatures that will work themselves to death to get ahead, so Sloth exists to make their bodies rest. Many a human has dropped dead because they don't know when to quit.

Greed... well, if you weren't greedy you'd give away everything you have and, while it makes a pretty sentiment, you would soon die unable to support yourself, which would be particularly bad if you have a family to care for as well.

If you weren't envious of something or someone, you wouldn't work hard so you could get it s well. If you see someone with an old flame you feel jealous, so you work hard at future relationships so it will work better next time." she takes a deep breath and her eyes flash blue again, more hurt than angry even as she raises her voice.

"And Pride- what's wrong with being proud of yourself or your accomplishments? Do you recall ever making a picture or getting grades you were particularly happy about and you just had to show everyone? What's wrong with being happy for yourself? Pride and narcissism are different; I'm proud that I give my all in my work, I'm proud of my accomplishments and if that's bad, I suppose I have no issues being a sinner. People without pride end up miserable in life," the female states severely. "We aren't just 'sins': we're basic instincts formed so life will continue on and individuals can survive."

"Are there any virtues? Like, Vices vs Virtues type of thing?" Stiles asked, hoping to both change the subject but maintain topic.

"Yes, and we get along just fine. Keep in mind that just as we sins have our pros, so do the virtues with their cons. We exist in a co-balance, you see." Abhimanini states and fixes the few strands of hair that escaped her bun during her passionate, defensive rave.

"Compassion is Envy's counterpart... unfortunately, if you're too compassionate people will take advantage of you to build themselves up. 'Nice guys finish last' isn't just a saying in the world of grownups, if you aren't ready to fight and take it all you'll be swept aside like you don't matter.

Chastity... well, I don't need to tell you what will happen if everyone stayed 'pure' forever. Humanity would die off, as would any creature that doesn't reproduce asexually.

Patience is a good one, but at some point you have to lose it or you will break yourself under the pressures you're allowing others to lay on you. If all you do is take abuse, no one will take you seriously and you'll just be seen as a way to vent frustration without consequences.

Charity is fine and dandy, but remember to take care of yourself and your own first. If you give away everything, what do you do for yourself? For other people relying on you?

Diligence will work you until both your body and mind are breaking down, determined to finish whatever you set your mind to with little to no rest. I'm sure you've heard what happens when people work themselves past their breaking point," she calls out a "come in" and thanks her assistant who brings in the orders from earlier, smiling until Stiles was worried the assistant's cheeks would split. After the woman left, stringing her time as much as possible before exiting and shutting the door behind her, Pride attempted to continue.

"Where was I?" Pride murmured and sipped her caffeine before realization lit her eyes. "Ah, yes. Then there's Humility- don't misunderstand, He's a sweet person, but you won't get anywhere if you don't take credit for what you do. He's constantly stuck in the same place, behind everyone else not because he's incapable, but because he won't take credit where it's due. None of them sound particularly 'Virtuous' once you see the negative sides," she states and pulls out a donut from the basket while Stiles held his glass of ice to his still hurting head. It was... a lot to take in, in his defense.

"What about Tristitia, or whatever?" Stiles asked and watched guiltily when Abhimanini suddenly deflated, the perk of her shoulders slumping just slightly but for someone with pride in their appearance, that in and of itself spoke volumes on just how hard it hit her.

"... Tristitia was the eldest, her sin was grief... despondency or sorrow. If you didn't grieve for what you lost, you would never truly heal, " she sighed and stirred her drink slowly with the straw. "She wasn't even really a Sin, but she wasn't a virtue, either, so she was out first sibling. Sorrow has existed since the very beginning of creation. Her virtuous counterpart was Joy: he was quite... the character."

"Good person?" Stiles guessed, earning a different look than before.

"No, he was just... content and happy with everything. It was genuinely creepy, and I'm certain he was a sadist at heart to counter Tristitia's empathetic nature." Abhimanini said everything with complete seriousness and Stiles would have laughed if he hadn't known she was being genuine in her control. "The worst part is he's still alive, even though we don't know what happened to Tristitia. She's assumed dead, though."

"Oh... I'm sorry to hear that," Stiles states awkwardly. He was genuinely sad that she's going through that, but he also didn't know what he could say to make the situation better. If he made a joke on the situation it'd be in poorer taste than usual: making fun of people and their circumstance? Sure. Making fun of someone grieving? Never. Even Stiles Stilinski knew there were some moments in life where you zip your lips and awkwardly shuffle on out with a peace sign.

"Thank you. Now then, another fact is concerning you," Abhimanini says and sips her coffee, tapping a manicured finger on her wooden desk.

"Right, In interested to know how, exactly, does any of this concern _me_?" Stiles gestured to himself.

"Well, both vices and virtues can inhabit vessels, as you've seen. Most bodies can't handle high exposure to negative or positive energies, but there are a few we can even actively possess with little damage to our vessels. You are the first person to have two sins inhabiting your body without repercussions."

"Yeah, sure, but why are they with me in the first place?" Stiles scratched his head in confusion.

"I'm getting to that, don't interrupt me." Pride glowers briefly, "Sins emit an energy signature to attract the other sins to them. I suppose you could say we're akin to pack animals in that manner. Where there's one sin, another is bound to be relatively close by- at least enough that they can sense when the other is threatened. So, wrath was with you longer than Asmodeus was. Asmodeus was drawn in while he was... incapacitated and sensed the familiar safety of his fellow Sin. I suppose he grew fond of you, for whatever reason," Stiles bit his lips to stop the instinctive snap of sass he would usually let fly at the back-handed insult, but he wasn't about to let his chance to get answers out of his hands. "-and he chose to stay with you. As for what Wrath was doing with you in the first place... well-" Abhimanini pauses briefly when the screen of her computer makes a sound, alerting her to a message that she turned and typed a response for, edited and sent in under two minutes that felt like hours to Stiles.

"But why was Wrath with me before? I was never particularly angry as a kid- I mean, I was annoying and I still am, but never really mad." Stiles states and fiddles with his hair, a habit he had developed subconsciously by being around Asmodeus- who would fiddle with his silky hair when he was unsure of something.

Abhimanini gives him a look that says she's going to tell him, but he may not like the answer. She shifts her jaws slightly and the sound of her tongue kissing her teeth while she considers how to word the next sentence is barely audible before she finally sighs and just states it as is.

"Well, it starts with your mother, Stiles."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) pronounced "Eer" instead of "Ire"


	16. Connections

"My... my mom?" Stiles choked out, not in sorrow or fear but genuine shock, something he hadn't felt in a damn long time. "Oh my god, what the hell? What does my mom have to do with the Sins?" he threaded his fingers through his hair and tugged.

"Well, your mother was Tristitia's host, for one thing." Abhimanini says in a blunt manner, like she were commenting on someone's shoes instead of telling a boy that his now dead mother was possessed by a demon representing Sin itself.

"What? But, wait- why? I mean, my mom was usually a happy person!" a bit schizophrenic, perhaps, but overall she had a jolly demeanor.

"Well, just because someone plasters on a smile doesn't mean that everything's fine. We've all had to turn our grimaces to grins to get through the day without breaking down," the Sin acknowledges and sips her caffeine with a content sigh.

"Even Sins?"

" _Especially_ Sins."

Stiles found it hard to believe that these all powerful beings could have bad days, could have to stiff their upper lips and march forward despite the weight of life- eternal life especially, weighing them down until it's a miracle they could move under the stress and anxiety. Were there days when they just couldn't do anything but finally let the stress and depression overtake them until they stayed in their beds, crying and mourning the unfairness of the world? Were there times they couldn't breathe because Society's expectations were crushing their hearts? Who knew that supernatural spirits could be so human.

"When our vessels are distressed, we are as well- if we're close enough, that is. The reason why I'm here right now- and have been for the past few weeks, is because my host is in mourning for her dog. We have a 'give-and-take' relationship, so to speak." Abhimanini says and stirs her drink with its straw. "That's a fatal flaw most demonic entities make when possessing someone: it's a partnership, in certain terms. As much as we hate the idea of being on equal footing to creatures so weak-willed and physically lacking, we need their physical forms to properly rest and regenerate energy, as well as hide ourselves from any enemies. As such, to avoid exorcisms and the like, we need to offer something in return that makes our hosts _want us_ to stay with them."

"So my mom was depressed and Tristitia chose her as a vessel... what happened after that?" Stiles leaned forward like a kid in a superhero movie.

"Well, she met your father about half a year later and was much happier, though she and Tristitia had a close, almost sisterly relationship. After being married for a few months, your mother became pregnant. With twins."

Stiles furrowed his brow. Twins? It was just him growing up. He said as much, too.

"That was the problem, your mother always had... fragile health- it was one of the reasons she was so depressed. Tristitia gave her a great deal of energy just to keep her alive and prevent a miscarriage. Both you and your brother were born premature, but only you survived, Stiles," the Sin said this in a very gentle tone, but it didn't help. Stiles felt his heart crack and ache over a person he didn't know, yet was a part of at the same time. It felt like he suddenly realized one of his closest and dearest friends was dead, even if he hadn't seen them in decades.

"You mean... I had a twin... and now they're dead? So he could have lived instead of me?" This must be what "survival guilt" was. Stiles had never understood the concept entirely until now; why would you regret living? It just means you made it and someone else didn't. Now he understood, it was the knowledge that the other person could have been worthier than you, that they could have accomplished more and lived their life and it feels like it's your fault their time was cut short.

"Stiles..."

"Did I- was it my fault? Did I kill him?" Stiles choked out, tears burning his eyes and making it difficult to see Pride, who looked blurred and almost unidentifiable.

"What-? No! Stiles, Please-"

"Was it my fault my mom lost her mind and her health-"

"Did you want to hear the rest or not?"

Stiles bit his lip when Abhimanini burst into his panic attack and forced himself to calm down. Did he want to hear the rest? No. Hell no. Stiles knew he'd never be entirely over this- especially knowing his parents hid it from him all these years. Granted, Stiles knew his dad must not have wanted to be reminded of what happened, so he closed that moment of his life off and might have even convinced himself he only ever had one child in the first place. He didn't want to hear the rest, but he had to.

"Anyway, since you were carried by your mother but exposed to Tristitia's energy, that must be how Wrath found you. Since you were exposed to anger early on when you couldn't really move or do anything about it, you had a healthier way of dealing with it than others. Lust appeared to you later after your mother passed away due to Wrath's request to have someone... more maternal to help you heal."

Stiles thought back, even though a good chunk of his mind blocked out a lot of his childhood- especially his mother's passing- he could still remember it didn't hurt as much as it should have after the second day. Maybe that was because Azzy had shown up and subconsciously healed the wound his mother had left? Maybe that was why he was more comfortable with the sin of Lust than even Wrath: Stiles saw him as a maternal figure without even meeting him.

 

"Can you tell me about the Nogitsune? Please?" Stiles pleaded like a child asking to go into his parents' bed after a nightmare.

"... Well, I don't know yours much, but the presence of not one, but two sins in one vessel? You must have reeked of chaos. Nogitsune usually devour people, they only possess others if they've been particularly injured. He must have seen you and hid himself deep in your soul where you hide your negative feelings until he was healed enough to take over."

"But why did he attack me? And the pack? And try to kill me?"

"I don't know for sure, Stiles. I am a Sin, not a fox expert." Abhimanini sighs and slurps the last of her drink, looking alarmed that it was gone, like it suddenly drained rather than her drinking it. She gathered herself quickly though, and even gave her theory. "But if I were to guess, I'd say he wasn't trying to kill you, but to scare you into surrendering control and scaring away your pack that was already hurting you. Granted it was a... flawed tactic, but beings of chaos are rarely subtle."

"So he hurt me to protect me?" that seemed like an oxymoron to Stiles. It just didn't make sense.

"Well, that's just my guess. Oh, and if you ever want to get a hold of the the other sins-" she whipped out a business card from seemingly nowhere with numbers on it in neat rows, "you can use these numbers. I'd recommend calling Sloth first, he's more sensible than the others. Envy, in particular-"

"I already met him. Envy, I mean," Stiles blurts and blinks at the look of wonderment on the woman's face.

"... And he... didn't kill you?" Abhimanini asks, utterly gobsmacked with her chin in her palm, looking at him calculatingly like a master-level jigsaw puzzle.

"I mean, I'm here now and pretty sure I'm alive, so, yeah."

"Peculiar..." Pride murmured. "Leviathan was always the most physically violent... aside from myself, of course," she puffed her chest a bit like she was proud of herself- oh, wait... never mind. "Anyway, he gets jealous of the smallest things and tends to throw violent... 'tantrums'," she says with air-quotes. "Perhaps you have something about you aside from Tristitia's energy signature that softens people," Abhimanini stated and laced her fingers together, resting her chin on them.

Stiles pulled on the collar of his T-shirt so the fabric wasn't touching his chest, suddenly feeling like the comfy, worn cotton-polyester blend was scratchy and made of stiff wool. "Uh... is that a good thing?"

"That greatly depends- it allows you to form bonds with beings who normally wouldn't, but this also means that you'll likely encounter someone obsessed over you."

"Right, sure. Who would want to stalk _me?_ I'm a mess! I have three- not one or two, _three_!- spirits possessing my body, my own pack decided I wasn't worth the trouble and I'm mildly autistic with ADHD symptoms! Who the **hell** would want me!" Stiles was well aware that if one of his spirits could hear what he just said, they'd probably smack him until he took it back. Being loved was such an uplifting experience, truly.

"Well, you're interesting. You are practically Tristia's child- the oldest and most powerful Sin, and therefore you could even potentially turn her energy signature into your own and become her replacement Sin. In addition, no one has ever been able to handle more than one spirit without serious repercussions to their physical and metal state: that in and of itself is an anomaly. Along with two powerful, dangerous sins you have a Nogitsune- an energy of pure chaos inside. And all three have grown fond of you- if not to see how you can handle the power inside you than they will take you for the sheer intrigue on how you managed to sway the untouchable spirits. If you sway one Sin in your favor, you're already in a positive position with the others. Two and you may as well be a Sin Sibling yourself- practically being the born of a sin means you're family." Abhimanini states and tosses her empty cup in the garbage can.

"But that aside, now you have a way to contact us if you need anything. I assure you Stiles, I personally have no intention of handing you over to anyone who would do you harm- especially when you have Tristitia's energy signature. That's all we have left of her, you are our last link." the woman says seriously.

"Right... well, I'm gonna... go. My dad's probably wondering where I am and... I have a lot to think about."

"Right, of course. I understand. I'll get someone to see you out-"

"No need! I just... need some time to myself," Stiles admits and rubs the back of his neck, the ice in his cup having long since melted to water and untouched. Abhimanini frowns at being cut off again but nods in understanding, if there's one thing she prides herself in, it's her ability to read the mood.

"Alright. Take care. The least I can do is call a car around for you," she says and starts dialing on her phone before he can respond.

"Bye..." honestly, Stiles' head felt like it was going to split in half from how full it was.

"Have a nice day, Stiles."


	17. Back With a Grudge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isn't this just Kurotsuki's luck to run into Stiles' useless and oblivious pack?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short, crappy filler chapter showing what Kurotsuki was doing in the meantime.

* * *

Kurotsuki walked along the street with more huffs than sighing- he wasn't particularly disappointed since at least now he knew that two of the high-standing vampires were relatively useless and therefore not a danger to himself or his host, but he was a bit frustrated that his investigations were iced. The dark skinned Pureblood and her sniveling progeny were clean, so were the rest of them after wasting his time literally shadowing them for the past two hours, and he just wanted to go home to Stiles and sleep in the warmth of his soul until his fatigue healed, but now he was being followed by a certain group he already wanted to decorate the streets with their entrails.

'The luck of the Nogitsune, I suppose,' he mused and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, turning into an alley and almost snorting when he noticed they followed him. 'They have no idea who or what I am and they still followed me into a narrow, dark alleyway where there could be an ambush? In a dark area like this, they wouldn't stand a chance.' The smirk on his face disappeared into a grimace when his seal burned angrily on his wrist, the sound of something cooking accompanying it and the fox spirit was pretty damn thankful that it was quiet enough so the wolves couldn't hear. They may be able to smell his skin burning, though, so he sped up his pace in hopes of leaving their line of sight to travel in his shadow form.

"Hey, you!" the meat-headed member known for giving Kurotsuki's host troubles shouted at the Chaotic creature.

'A pain in the ass,' Kurotsuki sighed through his nose, nostrils flaring and turning on his heel to look at the three approaching nuisances. Jackass Whittemore, Lydiot Marson and Isuck Lahey. What a _charming_ assemblage.

'Wait, since when did they abused pup return? Nevermind. I don't care,' Kurotsuki rolled his eyes behind his lids and plastered on a charming smile that made Lydia blush. 'Such a shame she can't control her genitals and always makes mistakes by judging on physical attraction alone, one day she'll be attracted to the worst possible person...' he glanced at Jackson for a quarter of a second and snickered, 'oh, to late.'

"Yeah, we're talking to you!" Whittemore tried to intimate earning an arched brow. Clearly this boy had no idea what he was talking to or what the being before them could do to them with a flick of his wrist. Lydia quickly shushed him and took a step in front of him, as if she had a right to stand toe-to-toe with one of the strongest earth-bound spirits in the world.

"I'm sorry for my friend, but he noticed that there's something a bit... off with your scent. Can you please tell me what you are?" she asked politely and batted her lashes as if it would make a difference.

"What exactly do you mean by that, young lady?" Kurotsuki pulled the stupidity card, his sharpening teeth gently kissing the inside of his lips to keep from baring them.

"W-well, I'm a banshee and Jackson is a werewolf. We were just wondering what kind of supernatural you were," the redhead says as politely as possible.

Kurotsuki, however, was appalled and debating whether or not these idiots were even worthy of his grudge anymore, if they're stupid enough to give out their specie and approach a stranger on the matter. Were they hoping to integrate him into their pack? Fat chance of that happening.

".... And, despite not knowing who or what I am, you approached a complete stranger and informed them of what creatures you are? Seems a bit foolhardy to me," Kurotsuki states without really answering anything. "I'll tell you what, if you figure out a few riddles, I think you'll figure it out yourself." the sly fox states with his pointer finger hooked over his lips, curled into a snarky smirk.

"Why don't you just tell us?" the impatient jock asks and folds his arms.

'Because I hate each and every single one of you all, no exceptions,' Kurotsuki thought but instead stated "it's more fun this way."

"The more of me there is, the less you see(1)."

"What the hell does that even mean?" Jackson blinked and scratched his head.

Without even waiting for them to answer, he continues. "They follow and lead, but only as you pass. Dress yourself in darkest black, and they are darker still.  
Always they flee the light, though without the sun there would be none(2)."

"Hold on-"

"I am mischievous as a cat, as loyal as a dog, and look like a mix of both. My wit is only matched by my artful craftiness. What am I?(3)" he, again, doesn't even wait for them to unscramble their brains and recall which riddle was which and turned on his heel, leaving the teens while they were stunned in confusion.

"Hey, hold up-!... Where'd he go?" Jackson tried to give chase but lost the strange man when he turned a corner, unaware of the glowing yellow eyes on a mass of shadow on one of the walls that watched him and the redheaded girl leave to search for him.

"He couldn't have gotten far..." Kurotsuki heard Lydia's voice fading along with their footsteps.

"To the contrary, I haven't gone anywhere, but now I see I've wasted enough time on them. I have more important places to be, and relevant people to spy on." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basil: hate, resentment.
> 
> Riddles:  
> (1): darkness  
> (2): shadows  
> (3): a fox


End file.
